My mother’s blessing, my father’s pride, and a dead bird.

If anypony had ever asked Inkie about her life, that would have been her answer. She had done many things, but in the end, nothing mattered. The only things she really cared about, the only things that had truly marked her, the only things that had given her life, were just those ones: Her mother’s blessing, her father’s pride, and a dead bird.

Inkie Pie was not a normal pony. She never had a normal life, and she never wanted one either. She never had a lover. She never had a home. She never stopped bleeding. The only pony she could call a friend, aside from her family members, saw her only once.

Inkie Pie was, without any kind of doubt, the most influential musician that ever lived.

And nopony but her ever truly knew her story.