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The air is especially chill this Autumn day, the wind more biting than usual despite the brightness of the sun.  An early and stiff reminder of what the next season would bring, it's enough to keep some ponies inside and encourage others to wear at least one layer more than usual for extended outings.  Not that most would need a reason to stay away from this place at most times.  A cemetery isn't most ponies' idea of a place to go voluntarily anyway.  Not that this stops all of them, of course.  Even today there is the occasional mourner, bringing bouquets, individual flowers, or nothing but their tears to the final resting place of a loved one come and passed away.  Today even the trees weep leaves for the ended lives they preside over, a more or less constant cascade of oranges, reds, yellows, and browns as the season progresses towards a time when the bark will be completely bare, lifeless husks until Spring comes to breathe green into the world again.

Clairvoyance takes no notice of any of it as he walks the cobbled walk along the aisles.  The cold of the air matters to him naught on his ponderous trek to his destination, his hooves making no sound to mark his progress.  A mourner, having delivered her burden already, nods to him as she passes him going the other way, a tear falling from her face to make a soft plip where it lands.  He takes no note of it either, nor the contrast of her black garb versus the pristine whiteness of his robe.  His pace is slow but constant as it draws him inexorably farther and farther from his house.

After the better part of an hour from when he began, he turns down the last turning in the last lot and walks down it to the very end.  At the terminus of that walkway is a single headstone.  It's possible that it was once elaborately carved and might have even been larger, but the years have worn it down, smoothing the stone until it looks rather unremarkable, the letters that once marred its surface indecipherable.  The earth in front of the headstone is so long settled that if it wasn't for the grave marker there would be no way to tell it had ever been disturbed.  It's in front of this grave that Clairvoyance turns, lays his rump down on the cold cobbles, and sits silently, motionless aside from the sway of his mane in the chill wind.

Insta Form:
If there is ever one thing fitting about the coolness of Autumn, it's being in a cemetery during the season's freezing temperature. Leaves fell from their branches, covering headstones to the point where it'd make finding loved ones a game of needle in the haystack. But for Insta Form, the needle she seeked was as clear as day.

She stood behind a stallion who sat in front of a headstone. The unicorn was glad she wasn't alone in the cemetery. Less chances of being stuck by herself during a sudden zombie outbreak, she imagined. Aside from that thought, Insta looked down at the name of the grave she stood by: "Welderhoof." The name brought a beautiful sense of nostalgia, which was soon overshadowed by dread. The kind one would get when recalling an unfortunate memory. Breathing in and out in a slow manner, she forced a grin. "Hey, sis," Insta spoke. "Been a while, huh? Maybe a year?" Insta giggled, "Of course, I'd lose track of time. But so much has been happening, I just gotta tell you!"

Insta sat on the cold cobblestone path. "The boutique's doing fine; making a lot o' dough, and seeing a bunch of hot dudes you'd really love." With the glow of her horn, a quick flash of orange light appeared over the stone, and out came a red and orange scarf. "And check it out! I found your old winter scarf. It's super cold here, so I figured you'd like it." Insta adjusted the scarf so it wrapped around the stone, "I really miss you, dude. Even after a year, things still don't feel the same without you. But it's great talking to you again. Really... great." Letting out a sigh, Insta stayed sat in front of the grave, and gave a moment of silence, her head facing downward.

A stray leaf falls from a nearby tree, drifting gracefully in a gentle spiral until it passes Clair's head, his ear moving to make way for it.  As it settles on the cold cobbled path he does as well, lowering from a sitting position to lie down, his chin settled on his forehooves bare inches from the edge of the grave.  Another long moment passes before a slow, low rumble escapes his throat.  "Happy birthday, Clarity."

His horn glows a dim white and from the sleeve of his robe emerges a black-stemmed yellow rose, which he places on the center of the grave.  "I brought you a present.  Your favorite."  A gust of wind comes up and rolls the flower to the edge, and Clair rolls it back.  "I'll put it with the rest later, but I knew you'd want to see it.  You know I have trouble with colors."

Clair rolls over onto his back, his hooves curling up above him, mane falling from his face.  "...I miss you."

Insta Form:
After her moment of silence had passed, Insta let out a short breath. Feeling the need of not getting a cold as a result of freezing weather, she sits up from the ground, and prepares to head out. Turning to the main path leading to the exit, she notices an odd sight to her right. It's the stallion who was also speaking to his loved one's grave lying down with his hooves covering his face. Insta takes a couple steps closer to him, her hooves lightly stepping on the ground, ensuring she doesn't make too much noise. "Uhh... You alright, buddy?" She asks him calmly.

Clair's ears flick when the approaching mare asks her question, then he stays still for a long moment, his mane and tail not even moving in the slight breeze.  The rose rolls again, and his horn glows, steadying it and putting it back in its place, smoothing the grass to the sides to form a little groove which helps keep it in place.

"Perfectly alright," he intones slowly.


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