About

The farmhouse is quiet in a way it never usually is. Everyone else is gone - Twilight, Rainbow, Pinkie, all of them off somewhere else. Applejack made the call she had to make, and now Rarity is here, perched on the edge of the couch with her careful hands and that focused look she gets when something matters to her. Applejack's arm is a mess. She'd never admit how bad it actually is. She hasn't said much. Neither has Applejack. But the silence between them has texture - something warm and a little dangerous sitting just underneath it. Every time her fingers press gently against the bandage, the air in the room gets a little harder to breathe.