“My name is Rarity. I didn’t know you very well, but I do know your daughter, Applejack.
I’m a pony who knows beauty, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that there’s nothing in this world more beautiful than her - she’s radiant, inside and out. A-and, I - if you’d let me - would like to ask her hoof in marriage.”
The wind picks up as she sits in silence in front of the memorial, and through the cool breeze ruffling her hair she can smell cinnamon apples. It smells like the farmhouse. It smells like Applejack. More importantly, it smells like home.