Post by Bardigan on Dec 27, 2014 18:59:37 GMT -5
Hollyhock still has her basket of things her mother sent out, and for whatever weird reason she has them with her again in Bardigan's house as she comes back to visit. She's more guarded in her excitement this time, offering a stiff little smile as she lets herself in, "Howdy." She doesn't ask about the scheme with AJ. Wasn't any of her business, and she's not going to pry.
Bardigan is pondering things in his big chair in front of a fire that's almost burned out. A glass of wine, untouched, is at the table next to him. "Hello."
Hollyhock scrunches her mouth up ever so slightly at the scene that presents itself to her, and draws her own conclusions from it. She doesn't say anything just now, instead she slides the package from her back onto the table, and moves to the fire, relaying it with practiced ease before fanning life back into it with little flicks of a wingtip. It's then she turns around and asks, "Want I should light a lamp?"
Bardigan nods gently. "Go ahead. It's getting dark in here."
Hollyhock nods once, "Better'n cursin' th' darkness, yeah?" There's a ghost of a grin, and soon enough she's back with a lamp, trimmed low. It's now she eyes the glass of wine, mouth scrunched up for a split second in distaste before she asks, "Hungry a'tall? Might could scare up some canned peaches."
Bardigan jumps to his hooves. "No," he says suddenly. "I'll cook."
Bardigan rushes into the kitchen to prepare something!
Hollyhock leans back away from Bardigan as he hurries past, her wings opening in surprise, "Woah! Woah now! I - you don't need t' make nothin' f'r me!"
"Yes I do!" Bardigan says without looking back. Clatter clatter go the pans.
Hollyhock takes a moment to discretely tip the wine in the glass out through an open window. Closing the window she returns the glass where it was, and wanders into the kitchen to watch, "Really. Really yah don't."
Bardigan turns around and peers at Holly. "Then just try and stop me. I'm making hayburgers."
Bardigan goes back to making food.
Hollyhock rolls her eyes, and gives her head a shake. Sometimes she knows which battles to fight, "Sure, whate'er. Just make mine with extra onion."
Bardigan whips them up in record time. They're still juicy (somehow hay is juicy in ponyland) when he plops it down in front of Holly. "Shall we?" he asks, and digs in with a greedy bite of his own.
Hollyhock ignores her 'burger, and watches Bardigan eat for a long moment, staying quiet, her expression serious. At last she gives her head a shake, exhales a sigh though her nose, and tucks into her sammich, content to let things remain quiet.
Hollyhock gets about half her 'burger eaten before she says anything, shifting her mouthfull of food into the side of her mouth to ask, "You okay?"
Bardigan is just as quiet as Holly. The food passes by all to quickly, and then things are awkward all over again. Bardigan looks over his plate full of crumbs. "Not really."
Hollyhock grunts quietly, a soft sound of acknowledgement, not sure what else to do. She knows she should say something, but there's nothing she can think of, so she shifts slightly in place, takes another bite, chews, swallows, and finally decides on, "Anything I c'n help with?"
Bardigan shakes his head. "Not really."
Hollyhock nods before looking down at her plate. She gives it a soft poke, opens her mouth, hesitates, closes her mouth again, scrunches her noses up, then asks, quietly, "Diamond okay?"
Bardigan shakes his head again. "Not really."
Hollyhock lays her ears back, focusing more intenetly on the plate in front of her, "She - she ain't, uh..." She wants to say 'dead' but just can't bring herself to be that blut, "She ain't any worse, is she?"
Bardigan takes a long, deep breath. "She is," he says. "She's getting worse every day. Always has been. And I see no clear signs of a cure at any junction."
Bardigan looks up at Holly. "Holly. If you knew I was willing to endanger many ponies including you to save Diamond... what would you say?"
Hollyhock exhales a little breath she'd been holding as she finds Diamond is not, in fact, dead. The question catches her off guard, though, and her brow furrows for a moment before she rolls her shoulders into a shrug, "I - I think I'd say you done what'cha thought you had to."
Hollyhock adds quietly, focusing on her plate again, "Ain't much more important than family."
Bardigan narrows his eyes and flicks a crumb off his plate. "Ponies don't really know what it's like," he whispers. "To be so powerless. Watching someone you love waste away every single moment of every single day. To live with a death sentence. 'Everypony dies.' What a lame excuse for not fighting to live." He hears her comment about family and nods. "Sometimes it is all you have."
Hollyhock sucks her bottom lip as she listens to Bardigan, eyes narrowed as she keeps staring at the plate in front of her and her half finshed hay burger, her expression unreadable. She remains silent for a long, long moment after Bardigan finishes speaking, gathering her thoughts before finally replying without looking up, "I - it ain't easy livin' with somethin' like that, no. Harder t' see when somepony's given up." She quirks a corner of her mouth up into a crooked smirk, and shakes her head, "Makes me think death might be better'n that. E'eryone dies, but some folks're already dead 'fore they get stretched out." There's a nervous glance up, then back down before she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, "That ain't me, though."
"But that's the thing," Bardigan whispers. "What do you do when you think you have no option but to die? What lengths should you go to when you find a situation with zero chance of success? Absolutely no hope? Wouldn't you simply buck up and say that you'll just go as hard and fast in the opposite direction as you can, until you've done the impossible, the unthinkable? Especially if it was for somepony you loved? When does that become wrong?" He sighs and puts his head in his hooves. "When did *I* become wrong?"
Hollyhock's voice is very small, almost ashamed sounding, "You fight. 's the only thing t' do." She wets her lips again, "It's - it's how I - how I was cutied yanno."
Hollyhock adds, "There - there ain't no wrong in tryin'."
Hollyhock adds again, even quieter, "E'en if it - if don't turn out like it should. Gotta fight. Rage 'gainst th' dyin' of the light."
Bardigan nods gently. "I'm glad somepony thinks so."
Hollyhock looks up finally, and rubs her nose with a forehoof, "You'd die f'r Diamond, wouldn't'cha. Mebbe kill a pony, too, if it meant savin' her. You see it comin', an' you know there ain't nothin' you can do - know y'r dead t' rights, but you gotta try anyway, e'en if it is j'st t' throw a hoof intah th' face've th' fates. Show th' world you ain't gonna take no horseapples without a fight. Don't matter if it's a bad idea, you gotta take the chance an' gotta go down swingin', f'r you, an' them you love." She's not asking any questions.
Bardigan nods sadly. He doesn't seem to know whether to be ashamed or sad or scared. "I would," he gasps, with a hitching sob. "I would do all those things. And... and more, Celestia forgive me. I would do it all."
Hollyhock wets her lips again with her tonguetip, hesitates for half a second, then leans a little more forward across the table, her voice low, a growly monotone as she speaks on the edge of hearing, speaking in short jerky little sentences, "I wasn't cutied 'til I was near fifteen. Thought I might ne'er get one. Don't know if I e'en cared. I had work, an' I was good at it. Worked with m' dad an' my uncle, an' other hired hoofs on th' ranch. Lazy B. M' uncle is forestallion there. Got m' dad work after his accident. An' found a spot f'r me when I was old a'nuf. More wages comin' in ne'er hurts, an' I was good at what I did. Real good."
Bardigan listens silently, in spite of his own emotional turmoil. He always has an ear for a story.
Hollyhock says, "Thought mebbe I'd get m' mark in ropin', or cuttin' or somethin'. Donno. Ne'er happened, but I kept workin', 'cause there was work t' be done." There's a brief pause while Holly collects herself, and redirects her story, lest she wander off on an unrelated tangent, "Wol, we'd rounded up th' red herd, an were movin' 'em south, off'a summer pasture on crown land, back to winter pasture on th' ranch, comin' down though spider canyon. We were 'bout half way though when we found we were in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Bardigan asks, slowly drawn out of his reverie by the tale. He's even looking up now.
Hollyhock clears her throat, "Storm. Sometimes down there inna late summer we get storms come down outta th' badlands, big feral things that blow in quick. Big ole thunderheads. Was one'a them. Wind picks up, things get dark, you can smell 'em comin' almost - air gets heavy, an' almost sweet smellin', like - like mesquite blossom. Most times they bang an' flash an' dump rain an' it's a good show, but... But we were boxed in, sheer walls mebbe ten lengths apart, moving five hundred head'a cattle." There's another crooked smile, and a shrug, "If th' cattle don't stampede an' run ya down, th' flash flood'll get'cha."
"Clearly it didn't," Bardigan murmurs, putting his chin in his hooves. "But I'm assuming it almost did."
Hollyhock nods, "Almost, yeah. I -- folks were scared. Cattle were gettin' skittish, like real skittish. I was with m' uncle, and he was real quiet, but I could see things were bad. Scared, yanno.." She gives another tight little smile, then looks down at her hooves on the table, "I - the other hired hoofs - were mebbe ten've us all told - some'a them tried talkin' t' the cattle, some were lookin' for places t' get outta the way. Th' two at th' back turned an' run off. Didn't want no part of it. After, no one said nothin' to 'em about it, but they were real guilty looking. It was... I donno if I've e'er been that scared. But..." She pauses, pressing her lips together into a tight line, "But more'n scared, I was mad. Mad that I'd ne'er get cutied. Mad that m' mom'd lose her family. Mad m' uncle'd ne'er get back t' Buckskin t' see his wife, an' Tex Mix'd ne'er sing again, an' -- J'st mad, yanno." She blinks a few times, then looks up again, opening her hooves in a helpless little gesture as she smiles a sad, almost apologetic smile.
Hollyhock says, "I - I kinda j'st stuffed all that fear down in me an' an' took off. I weren't gonna die like that. Wasn't gonna see folks I loved die without tryin' t' do somethin'. I - I don't r'member much. I r'member seein' red, I r'member folks yellin' at me, an' I r'member th' black - th' lightnin' flashin' an' lightin' the cloud inside, an' th' smell of th' lightnin', an' - an' I r'member lettin' the storm take me...." She pauses, swallowing, wetting her lips again as she stares at the tabletop, eyes searching for something as she tries to find the words, "...I - it..." Finally she looks up again, her wide eyes finding yours, her face open, almost vunerable, "M' mom, when she was tryin' t' teach me t' tend th' garden - she said if I listened, th' earth'd speak t' me. Ne'er did. But - but th' storm did. I - it..." She frowns again, expressiong clouding as she looks down, "I beat it." She nods, then thumps a hoof on the tabletop, "I stomped it good."
Bardigan rubs his hooves together nervously, watching Holly's intense demeanor with a little bit of trepidation. "...What... what did it say?" he asks in a solemn whisper.
Hollyhock furrows her brow at the question, like she'd never really considered the question before, "I - it wasn't words. Not 'zactly. More -- more j'st - j'st feelin's - like I knew what made it work - what was goin' on. That if I moved my wing just so..." She helpfully extends her left wing and tweaks the pitch slightly, "That I'd find an' updraft that'd take me 'round that vortex, or that if I tucked up, I could drop 'til I hit warm air again. Yanno?"
Bardigan nods slowly. "And then... you got it?"
Hollyhock says, "I knew it's secrets. It couldn't hide nothin' from me. Knew where t' push, an' buck, an' get m' rope in' t' break things up. Weren't too different from cuttin' calves out. An' - an' I could fly. Really fly in there, like I'd always dreamed. J'st..." She sinks back into her seat, her ears splaying out as she exhales a soft sigh, "It felt like I belonged."
Hollyhock nods, "Yeah. Reckon so. Didn't know it at first. Weren't for a good hour or so after I come down that someone noticed it. Them cattle were still plenty spooked, an' we had our hooves full tryin' t' calm'em down...
Bardigan seems enchanted. Or in shock. "That's amazing. You're amazing. Wrangling an entire storm by yourself? I can't even imagine."
Hollyhock presses her lips togeher into a tight line, looking away, shrugging, "Did what I needed t' do is all."
Bardigan shakes his head. "What ponies need to do often turns out to be amazing, if you ask me."
It is now your pose.
Hollyhock adds quietly, "Did what anyone'd do. Fight t' stay alive. I was sure I wouldn't come outta there again, but I had t' try." She nods, "J'st like you'd do anything t' save Diamond. I did it for m' family an' friends."
Bardigan mmms and settles back, rubbing his temples with his hooves. "But you didn't willfully put other ponies in danger. Only yourself."
Hollyhock says "I would'a."
Bardigan glances up at Holly. "Do you mean that? I mean... really?"
Hollyhock nods, her gaze steady, "Yeah. Prolly ain't very nice'a me, but... But I ain't a nice pony."
"You're a good one, though," says Bardigan, his gaze just as steady as hers.
Hollyhock grunts quietly, and looks back down at the remainder of her hayburger, "Reckon you are too."
Hollyhock starts to eat the sandwich again, hoping there won't be anything else said about her, or her alleg'd goodness.
Bardigan raises a sandwich and eats with her, in companionable silence.
Hollyhock finishes her hayburger, and licks the tip of her hoof before speaking, her voice slow and quiet, "Reckon you know all about me now. J'st - j'st don't go tellin' folks. Folks hear an' - an' they react like you did. Like they ain't sure if they b'leive me, or... Or if they b'lieve me, an' they ain't sure which'd be worse." She rubs her nose again, "J'st - j'st wanted you t' know you weren't alone, is all. Death ain't somethin' --- I ain't gonna go easy when it's my turn, an' I don't think poorly 'bout anyone who thinks th' same."
Hollyhock grunts quietly, and stands, "I c'n go if you want. Reckon it's too late t' make tamales anyhow."
Bardigan raises a hoof. "No, don't," he whispers. "Please. The last thing I want is another pony to go right now. You can have the couch if you like. I just... can't stand having a quiet house right now."
Hollyhock smiles quietly at the request, and nods, "Reckon I c'n stay. Ain't sure where Scarlet's gotten to, an' - yeah. I c'n bed down here, no problem." She smiles a bit more, "An' tomorrow there c'n be tamales. Ain't sun's return without tamales." She nods, stretches her wings, then sighs, "Nor Hearthwarmin' neither." She moves towards the front room, pausing to bump flanks on her way.
Bardigan glances over his shoulder as Holly passes by. His gaze is solemn, but kind. The flank bump is returned, and with it a little more life comes back to the playwright. The smile on his face is genuine, something he hasn't felt in days. Tamales, Hearthwarming, a house that didn't choke in silence... of them all, it seems all that was really needed was just a pony named Hollyhock.
Bardigan is pondering things in his big chair in front of a fire that's almost burned out. A glass of wine, untouched, is at the table next to him. "Hello."
Hollyhock scrunches her mouth up ever so slightly at the scene that presents itself to her, and draws her own conclusions from it. She doesn't say anything just now, instead she slides the package from her back onto the table, and moves to the fire, relaying it with practiced ease before fanning life back into it with little flicks of a wingtip. It's then she turns around and asks, "Want I should light a lamp?"
Bardigan nods gently. "Go ahead. It's getting dark in here."
Hollyhock nods once, "Better'n cursin' th' darkness, yeah?" There's a ghost of a grin, and soon enough she's back with a lamp, trimmed low. It's now she eyes the glass of wine, mouth scrunched up for a split second in distaste before she asks, "Hungry a'tall? Might could scare up some canned peaches."
Bardigan jumps to his hooves. "No," he says suddenly. "I'll cook."
Bardigan rushes into the kitchen to prepare something!
Hollyhock leans back away from Bardigan as he hurries past, her wings opening in surprise, "Woah! Woah now! I - you don't need t' make nothin' f'r me!"
"Yes I do!" Bardigan says without looking back. Clatter clatter go the pans.
Hollyhock takes a moment to discretely tip the wine in the glass out through an open window. Closing the window she returns the glass where it was, and wanders into the kitchen to watch, "Really. Really yah don't."
Bardigan turns around and peers at Holly. "Then just try and stop me. I'm making hayburgers."
Bardigan goes back to making food.
Hollyhock rolls her eyes, and gives her head a shake. Sometimes she knows which battles to fight, "Sure, whate'er. Just make mine with extra onion."
Bardigan whips them up in record time. They're still juicy (somehow hay is juicy in ponyland) when he plops it down in front of Holly. "Shall we?" he asks, and digs in with a greedy bite of his own.
Hollyhock ignores her 'burger, and watches Bardigan eat for a long moment, staying quiet, her expression serious. At last she gives her head a shake, exhales a sigh though her nose, and tucks into her sammich, content to let things remain quiet.
Hollyhock gets about half her 'burger eaten before she says anything, shifting her mouthfull of food into the side of her mouth to ask, "You okay?"
Bardigan is just as quiet as Holly. The food passes by all to quickly, and then things are awkward all over again. Bardigan looks over his plate full of crumbs. "Not really."
Hollyhock grunts quietly, a soft sound of acknowledgement, not sure what else to do. She knows she should say something, but there's nothing she can think of, so she shifts slightly in place, takes another bite, chews, swallows, and finally decides on, "Anything I c'n help with?"
Bardigan shakes his head. "Not really."
Hollyhock nods before looking down at her plate. She gives it a soft poke, opens her mouth, hesitates, closes her mouth again, scrunches her noses up, then asks, quietly, "Diamond okay?"
Bardigan shakes his head again. "Not really."
Hollyhock lays her ears back, focusing more intenetly on the plate in front of her, "She - she ain't, uh..." She wants to say 'dead' but just can't bring herself to be that blut, "She ain't any worse, is she?"
Bardigan takes a long, deep breath. "She is," he says. "She's getting worse every day. Always has been. And I see no clear signs of a cure at any junction."
Bardigan looks up at Holly. "Holly. If you knew I was willing to endanger many ponies including you to save Diamond... what would you say?"
Hollyhock exhales a little breath she'd been holding as she finds Diamond is not, in fact, dead. The question catches her off guard, though, and her brow furrows for a moment before she rolls her shoulders into a shrug, "I - I think I'd say you done what'cha thought you had to."
Hollyhock adds quietly, focusing on her plate again, "Ain't much more important than family."
Bardigan narrows his eyes and flicks a crumb off his plate. "Ponies don't really know what it's like," he whispers. "To be so powerless. Watching someone you love waste away every single moment of every single day. To live with a death sentence. 'Everypony dies.' What a lame excuse for not fighting to live." He hears her comment about family and nods. "Sometimes it is all you have."
Hollyhock sucks her bottom lip as she listens to Bardigan, eyes narrowed as she keeps staring at the plate in front of her and her half finshed hay burger, her expression unreadable. She remains silent for a long, long moment after Bardigan finishes speaking, gathering her thoughts before finally replying without looking up, "I - it ain't easy livin' with somethin' like that, no. Harder t' see when somepony's given up." She quirks a corner of her mouth up into a crooked smirk, and shakes her head, "Makes me think death might be better'n that. E'eryone dies, but some folks're already dead 'fore they get stretched out." There's a nervous glance up, then back down before she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, "That ain't me, though."
"But that's the thing," Bardigan whispers. "What do you do when you think you have no option but to die? What lengths should you go to when you find a situation with zero chance of success? Absolutely no hope? Wouldn't you simply buck up and say that you'll just go as hard and fast in the opposite direction as you can, until you've done the impossible, the unthinkable? Especially if it was for somepony you loved? When does that become wrong?" He sighs and puts his head in his hooves. "When did *I* become wrong?"
Hollyhock's voice is very small, almost ashamed sounding, "You fight. 's the only thing t' do." She wets her lips again, "It's - it's how I - how I was cutied yanno."
Hollyhock adds, "There - there ain't no wrong in tryin'."
Hollyhock adds again, even quieter, "E'en if it - if don't turn out like it should. Gotta fight. Rage 'gainst th' dyin' of the light."
Bardigan nods gently. "I'm glad somepony thinks so."
Hollyhock looks up finally, and rubs her nose with a forehoof, "You'd die f'r Diamond, wouldn't'cha. Mebbe kill a pony, too, if it meant savin' her. You see it comin', an' you know there ain't nothin' you can do - know y'r dead t' rights, but you gotta try anyway, e'en if it is j'st t' throw a hoof intah th' face've th' fates. Show th' world you ain't gonna take no horseapples without a fight. Don't matter if it's a bad idea, you gotta take the chance an' gotta go down swingin', f'r you, an' them you love." She's not asking any questions.
Bardigan nods sadly. He doesn't seem to know whether to be ashamed or sad or scared. "I would," he gasps, with a hitching sob. "I would do all those things. And... and more, Celestia forgive me. I would do it all."
Hollyhock wets her lips again with her tonguetip, hesitates for half a second, then leans a little more forward across the table, her voice low, a growly monotone as she speaks on the edge of hearing, speaking in short jerky little sentences, "I wasn't cutied 'til I was near fifteen. Thought I might ne'er get one. Don't know if I e'en cared. I had work, an' I was good at it. Worked with m' dad an' my uncle, an' other hired hoofs on th' ranch. Lazy B. M' uncle is forestallion there. Got m' dad work after his accident. An' found a spot f'r me when I was old a'nuf. More wages comin' in ne'er hurts, an' I was good at what I did. Real good."
Bardigan listens silently, in spite of his own emotional turmoil. He always has an ear for a story.
Hollyhock says, "Thought mebbe I'd get m' mark in ropin', or cuttin' or somethin'. Donno. Ne'er happened, but I kept workin', 'cause there was work t' be done." There's a brief pause while Holly collects herself, and redirects her story, lest she wander off on an unrelated tangent, "Wol, we'd rounded up th' red herd, an were movin' 'em south, off'a summer pasture on crown land, back to winter pasture on th' ranch, comin' down though spider canyon. We were 'bout half way though when we found we were in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Bardigan asks, slowly drawn out of his reverie by the tale. He's even looking up now.
Hollyhock clears her throat, "Storm. Sometimes down there inna late summer we get storms come down outta th' badlands, big feral things that blow in quick. Big ole thunderheads. Was one'a them. Wind picks up, things get dark, you can smell 'em comin' almost - air gets heavy, an' almost sweet smellin', like - like mesquite blossom. Most times they bang an' flash an' dump rain an' it's a good show, but... But we were boxed in, sheer walls mebbe ten lengths apart, moving five hundred head'a cattle." There's another crooked smile, and a shrug, "If th' cattle don't stampede an' run ya down, th' flash flood'll get'cha."
"Clearly it didn't," Bardigan murmurs, putting his chin in his hooves. "But I'm assuming it almost did."
Hollyhock nods, "Almost, yeah. I -- folks were scared. Cattle were gettin' skittish, like real skittish. I was with m' uncle, and he was real quiet, but I could see things were bad. Scared, yanno.." She gives another tight little smile, then looks down at her hooves on the table, "I - the other hired hoofs - were mebbe ten've us all told - some'a them tried talkin' t' the cattle, some were lookin' for places t' get outta the way. Th' two at th' back turned an' run off. Didn't want no part of it. After, no one said nothin' to 'em about it, but they were real guilty looking. It was... I donno if I've e'er been that scared. But..." She pauses, pressing her lips together into a tight line, "But more'n scared, I was mad. Mad that I'd ne'er get cutied. Mad that m' mom'd lose her family. Mad m' uncle'd ne'er get back t' Buckskin t' see his wife, an' Tex Mix'd ne'er sing again, an' -- J'st mad, yanno." She blinks a few times, then looks up again, opening her hooves in a helpless little gesture as she smiles a sad, almost apologetic smile.
Hollyhock says, "I - I kinda j'st stuffed all that fear down in me an' an' took off. I weren't gonna die like that. Wasn't gonna see folks I loved die without tryin' t' do somethin'. I - I don't r'member much. I r'member seein' red, I r'member folks yellin' at me, an' I r'member th' black - th' lightnin' flashin' an' lightin' the cloud inside, an' th' smell of th' lightnin', an' - an' I r'member lettin' the storm take me...." She pauses, swallowing, wetting her lips again as she stares at the tabletop, eyes searching for something as she tries to find the words, "...I - it..." Finally she looks up again, her wide eyes finding yours, her face open, almost vunerable, "M' mom, when she was tryin' t' teach me t' tend th' garden - she said if I listened, th' earth'd speak t' me. Ne'er did. But - but th' storm did. I - it..." She frowns again, expressiong clouding as she looks down, "I beat it." She nods, then thumps a hoof on the tabletop, "I stomped it good."
Bardigan rubs his hooves together nervously, watching Holly's intense demeanor with a little bit of trepidation. "...What... what did it say?" he asks in a solemn whisper.
Hollyhock furrows her brow at the question, like she'd never really considered the question before, "I - it wasn't words. Not 'zactly. More -- more j'st - j'st feelin's - like I knew what made it work - what was goin' on. That if I moved my wing just so..." She helpfully extends her left wing and tweaks the pitch slightly, "That I'd find an' updraft that'd take me 'round that vortex, or that if I tucked up, I could drop 'til I hit warm air again. Yanno?"
Bardigan nods slowly. "And then... you got it?"
Hollyhock says, "I knew it's secrets. It couldn't hide nothin' from me. Knew where t' push, an' buck, an' get m' rope in' t' break things up. Weren't too different from cuttin' calves out. An' - an' I could fly. Really fly in there, like I'd always dreamed. J'st..." She sinks back into her seat, her ears splaying out as she exhales a soft sigh, "It felt like I belonged."
Hollyhock nods, "Yeah. Reckon so. Didn't know it at first. Weren't for a good hour or so after I come down that someone noticed it. Them cattle were still plenty spooked, an' we had our hooves full tryin' t' calm'em down...
Bardigan seems enchanted. Or in shock. "That's amazing. You're amazing. Wrangling an entire storm by yourself? I can't even imagine."
Hollyhock presses her lips togeher into a tight line, looking away, shrugging, "Did what I needed t' do is all."
Bardigan shakes his head. "What ponies need to do often turns out to be amazing, if you ask me."
It is now your pose.
Hollyhock adds quietly, "Did what anyone'd do. Fight t' stay alive. I was sure I wouldn't come outta there again, but I had t' try." She nods, "J'st like you'd do anything t' save Diamond. I did it for m' family an' friends."
Bardigan mmms and settles back, rubbing his temples with his hooves. "But you didn't willfully put other ponies in danger. Only yourself."
Hollyhock says "I would'a."
Bardigan glances up at Holly. "Do you mean that? I mean... really?"
Hollyhock nods, her gaze steady, "Yeah. Prolly ain't very nice'a me, but... But I ain't a nice pony."
"You're a good one, though," says Bardigan, his gaze just as steady as hers.
Hollyhock grunts quietly, and looks back down at the remainder of her hayburger, "Reckon you are too."
Hollyhock starts to eat the sandwich again, hoping there won't be anything else said about her, or her alleg'd goodness.
Bardigan raises a sandwich and eats with her, in companionable silence.
Hollyhock finishes her hayburger, and licks the tip of her hoof before speaking, her voice slow and quiet, "Reckon you know all about me now. J'st - j'st don't go tellin' folks. Folks hear an' - an' they react like you did. Like they ain't sure if they b'leive me, or... Or if they b'lieve me, an' they ain't sure which'd be worse." She rubs her nose again, "J'st - j'st wanted you t' know you weren't alone, is all. Death ain't somethin' --- I ain't gonna go easy when it's my turn, an' I don't think poorly 'bout anyone who thinks th' same."
Hollyhock grunts quietly, and stands, "I c'n go if you want. Reckon it's too late t' make tamales anyhow."
Bardigan raises a hoof. "No, don't," he whispers. "Please. The last thing I want is another pony to go right now. You can have the couch if you like. I just... can't stand having a quiet house right now."
Hollyhock smiles quietly at the request, and nods, "Reckon I c'n stay. Ain't sure where Scarlet's gotten to, an' - yeah. I c'n bed down here, no problem." She smiles a bit more, "An' tomorrow there c'n be tamales. Ain't sun's return without tamales." She nods, stretches her wings, then sighs, "Nor Hearthwarmin' neither." She moves towards the front room, pausing to bump flanks on her way.
Bardigan glances over his shoulder as Holly passes by. His gaze is solemn, but kind. The flank bump is returned, and with it a little more life comes back to the playwright. The smile on his face is genuine, something he hasn't felt in days. Tamales, Hearthwarming, a house that didn't choke in silence... of them all, it seems all that was really needed was just a pony named Hollyhock.