Raven Lock tried to stay calm.
Only a few days had passed since he sent Dusk that response letter. At the time, he had felt relatively calm and collected. After all, most of the operation was going swimmingly.
And it still was. Though, now there was another, larger issue at hand.
The other organization—the one that only Raven knew about—had made a move. He had long been tracking it, having kept in touch with various associates, unbeknownst to Dusk. That organization was quickly threatening to rival even Grifford Finch’s group; and it didn’t help that it was near-completely unknown.
He glanced at the picture of his late wife once more, asking it for strength. A part of him thought this was irrational; after all, they hadn’t done anything to directly threaten them. Yet. Raven was a believer of Murphy’s Law; and based on the evidence that he had uncovered, it was only a matter of time before that shadowy organization struck fast and hard.
He wanted to be prepared for the worst. When it hit—and it would hit—he wanted himself and his friend to be ready.
Especially since it’s only he and I now.
He sighed. Dusk had sacrificed so much to pursue this goal. He had shed his old identity, cut most of his ties, and possibly left a few ponies feeling confused and betrayed, all because he wanted to do what he thought was right. Raven supported him, certainly, but Dusk’s stubbornness could be troublesome.
Considering what Manehattan had become under Finch’s influence, it would be hard for the ordinary pony to understand where Dusk was coming from. Raven himself had once fallen into that thought pool. Thankfully, after some time spent with Dusk, he realized that he was, in the end, right, and he had pledged himself to assisting Dusk in his cause.
His cause.
Raven frowned. When had that happened? It wasn’t originally Dusk’s; it was their leader’s.
Then again, their leader was gone, as was the author. He supposed that Dusk simply took over; whether by choice or by coincidence he was unsure.
Dusk’s goal, though, was no longer of the same priority as it had been. Lock would have told Dusk about the mysterious, shady organization that he had been tracking for a while now. But he found that he couldn’t. Something told him that Dusk needed to finish this goal, no matter how seemingly unobtainable it was. And that goal had to be placed above all else.
Did that resolve come at a cost? Did it spiral in obsession? Was it more detrimental in nature than either of them had considered?
Raven shook his head. He couldn’t be bothered to answer right now; he was fighting two different wars, one actively, the other passively. He needed to concentrate on the tasks at hand.
He placed a thumbtack on the wall map. It was a detailed image of Equestria, with all the cities and towns outlined in plain detail. The thumbtack was now next to Manehattan, around the outer border of the city. Several other tacks, like polka-dot markers, adorned the sides of the city as well. Raven observed that they all appeared to be in a wave. This wasn’t a mistake on his part; careful observation and listening had given him enormous information.
At the farthest edge of the tack border, the markers were much more spread out. Looking like a large, inward-curving line, the tacks gradually grew more clustered with each new wave. The layers following the previous were more condensed, with the tacs growing ever so closer to together. By the seventh layer, they all curved at a sharp angle, forming around in a precise circle.
Based on this, then, Raven could conclude that the movement was slowly focusing on one place: Manehattan.
He had no idea when they would strike, nor with what; his observations, while keen, were still limited by the necessity of anonymity. Just as the organization could not know about his actions, he could not know fully about theirs.
That was also partially why he didn’t want to tell Dusk about his actions. His friend preferred specifics, and Raven had little. Rumors and speculation made Dusk impatient, and the indigo-black stallion knew better than to provoke the pewter one.
He wanted to believe that this incoming movement was no threat; yet, all the evidence he had gathered suggested otherwise. And that made him afraid; very afraid.
A storm was brewing, and he was unsure if either he, Dusk, or even Grifford Finch could withstand it. The very thought made his heart race, and his body wanted to jump and flee. But he had to stand firm and strong, no matter the cost, whether that be his relationship with Dusk… or, potentially, his life.
He looked to his late wife again, and prayed for her love to give him strength.
Town Hall was abuzz. Most of the town had gathered, and their voices were confused and loud. Twilight, her friends, and Spike were up front with Mayor Mare, trying to calm things down.
“Mayor Mare!” one pony shouted. “What on Equestria are we doing here?”
The mayor shook her head. “I’m not sure. Somepony called this meeting, but it doesn’t look like he’s here yet.”
Rarity leaned over towards Twilight. “Any idea who arranged this meeting?”
The fellow unicorn shook her head. “No idea.” She glanced around the Hall, taking notice of a certain stallion’s absence. “Dusk isn’t here either.”
Rainbow snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me. That stallion is probably doing something creepy right now and doesn’t want to be bothered to show up.”
Rarity quickly reprimanded her while Twilight shook her head again. Rainbow, after all this time, still hadn’t warmed up to Dusk, and that saddened her. He may have been odd, but there was a certain… charm, she supposed, in his presence.
“Please, everypony, calm down!” said Mayor. “I’m sure that whoever called this meeting called it with the best intentions.”
“Was it Dusk Prosa?” somepony yelled out. “I bet it was Dusk Prosa!”
“That lazy, good-for-nothing stallion!” another said.
“You don’t know him!” a female answered. “He could be different!”
“I agree!” called a male. “I doubt he means us any harm!”
“Then you have thought wrong,” another voice said.
They all looked up to the side of the center stage, seeing Filthy Rich standing there. Wearing his signature vest and having his hair gelled and slicked, one might have initially thought that he was quite calm. A glance at his face, however, betrayed the truth; anger and tiredness were the most evident feelings.
By his side were Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Rarity and Applejack cast nervous, confused glances at each other, unsure what they were doing here. The Crusaders, sitting up front, also had uneasy expressions. In contrast, Twilight and Fluttershy remained quietly stoic and polite. Pinkie’s smiled faltered a bit, but she managed to keep up the facade. Rainbow said nothing, hovering impatiently.
Rich nodded to Mayor Mare, permitting her to step away from the center of the stage. Twilight noticed that is usual confidence had vanished; as he walked, his legs shook. It seemed it took all his strength just to stand. What could have gotten into him? she wondered.
He faced the crowd. He cleared his throat, waiting for them all to calm down. Twilight saw that Dinky and Time Turner had turned away, an angry look in the mare’s eyes. She frowned, remembering what Pinkie had told her, but did not choose to confront Rich; she didn’t want to cause an uproar.
“Citizens of Ponyville,” Rich began, his head swiveling around and looking each pony in the eye, “as you are all so well aware, recently we’ve had some… developments in our humble town.”
“Ooh!” Pinkie said excitedly. “You mean, like party developments?”
He cast her a stern gaze, and she wavered under it. “No, Miss Pie. These developments I speak of are far more devastating.”
Rarity scoffed, turning to Applejack. “My word, you’d think something apocalyptic was going to happen!” Applejack nodded her agreement.
“To reiterate what has undoubtedly been forcefully ingrained in our minds—a young stallion by the name of Dusk Prosa has entered our midst.” He glanced around. “I see he has not made his presence known. Is there any reason why?”
“Somepony said he didn’t want to come out today,” a rose-haired pony called out.
“Thank you, Roseluck. Good, good; this will serve us well.”
He began to trot back and forth, Diamond and Silver parading by his side. “My fellow ponies, you know as well as I do that Dusk is no ordinary stallion. He came from all the way from the Hollow Shades, and fought off numerous Shade and Timberwolves; all for the end goal of reaching our fair town. To settle in, of all things!
“Some may say that that is an admirable quality, risking so much just to be in our little home. And perhaps in another life I’d have thought the same; had Dusk not established his true motives for arriving.”
He took a purposeful breath. “Though it may surprise some of you… I have every reason to believe that Dusk’s intent is not one that is amicable in nature.”
Murmurs spread throughout the crowd as eyebrows raised and voices grew into whispers. Rich waited for the room to calm itself, though Twilight noticed a certain flare in his eyes. Her hair stood on end as she felt the amount of tension in Rich spew out, amassing in something akin to rage and fear.
She found herself thinking, What did Dusk do to him?
The Hall eventually settled down, looking at Rich expectantly. “What do you mean by that?” asked Mayor Mare.
“I am sure we are all well aware of the… items,” he spat the word like it was a curse, “that Dusk was found holding on to when he arrived here. A torn cloak, ripped vest, unkempt mane that no self-respecting stallion should have—” He paused, allowing his words to achieve the desired effect. “And, of course, a bag of syringes.”
Most of the Hall were not at all surprised, though some, like Rarity and the Crusaders, had uneasy looks on their faces. Where was Rich going with this?
“Syringes!” he repeated strongly, voice loud and commanding their attention. “That is, needles! Joints! Fixes! And a whole plethora of slang terms for one common malpractice!” He clenched his teeth and shook his head. “Believe me, my fellow ponies, I did not want to believe this. But all evidence points to it.
“Dusk is, no doubt, a user of illegal drugs.”
“Hey! Wait a minute—” Apple Bloom tried to intervene, but was quickly drowned out by the gasps of the crowd.
“Users!”
“In our town?”
“Absolutely unheard of—”
“—should not have happened—”
“Furthermore!” Rich continued, not losing stride. “If he is a user, then it is only a matter of time before he begins to corrupt our town with his fiendish ends and methods!”
He suddenly pointed to the Crusaders. “These fillies have been seen hanging out with this dreaded stallion! How do we know that they have not already succumbed to his false ideals?”
“What?!” Scootaloo burst out angrily. “Are you kidding me?!”
Rainbow flew over, leveling a stern glare at the young pegasus. “Is this true, squirt?”
“No! Of course it isn’t!”
“Apple Bloom?” Applejack inquired.
“Sis, Ah swear Ah would never do such a thing—”
“And neither would I!” Sweetie exclaimed before Rarity could ask. “And you ponies shouldn’t assume that he’s a user just because he has needles! If you just got to know him—”
“See!” Rich interrupted. “See how these fillies are adamantly defending that wretch!” He glared at Sweetie Belle. “If he isn’t a user, then what use does he have of those needles?”
“W-well…”
“It could be medical,” Twilight said, gathering their attention. She blushed, before quickly calming herself. “I mean, there’s treatment that involves needles, like shots and the like.”
“Then why doesn’t he go to the hospital for that?”
Twilight couldn’t answer that, her ear wilting to the sides. Rich nodded, the point made, before turning back to the crowd.
“All evidence,” he reiterated, “points to Dusk being a user. And I believe it is in our best interests not to ignore this amount of damming truth!”
The crowd yelled its approval, the voices all excited and loud. Soon the entire hall was filled with cries for change. Rich gathered a slightly arrogant look; his plan had worked. But he wasn’t satisfied yet.
“That’s not all of the crimes that this mysterious stallion has committed!” he shouted over the crowed. He pulled Diamond and Silver forward, nodding to them. They nodded back, before their faces became teary-eyed, looking like they were about to burst out sobbing at any moment. “In his drugged rage, that stallion threatened the life of my daughter and her friend, in front of the three fillies we see here!” He pointed to the Crusaders once more.
“Are you serious?!” a voice screeched.
It was Ditzy; she was beyond furious. Time Turner had to hold her back to prevent her from flying up and decking the stallion. Twilight did not miss, though, the slight flinch that Rich took at the outburst. “As if your daughter and her friend can be justified!”
Rich had the decency to at least look ashamed. He cleared his throat. “I understand that my daughter and her friend have some… problems with properly socializing. But that does not excuse the stallion’s actions!” He narrowed his eyes at Dinky. “Surely you can say that what he did was going too far!”
“The same could be said to your daughter!” she countered.
He nudged Diamond, a bit painfully, and she winced. “Go.”
She nodded, before stepping a little closer to the edge of the stage. She did look genuinely remorseful. The tormenter looked at Ditzy, eyes wide and filled with (seemingly) real tears.
“I’m sorry I bullied your daughter. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Ditzy had no idea how to respond to that. She sat down, a faraway look in her eyes; she hadn’t expected Diamond to apologize. But as Diamond turned around to return to her position, Twilight noticed an out-of-place smirk cross her lips.
Rich continued, “The point is: Dusk Prosa threatened my family. Whether or not the act can be justified is of no concern; what should concern us, is how we will react to this.”
He held a hoof up, shaking in fueled anger. “Will we easily let him off? Will we ignore what he has done to our families, our friends, and our community? Or will we put him in his place? Will we teach him a lesson? Will we do what is right?”
His call was answered just as enthusiastically. Clapping and whistles erupted; the Hall quickly transformed into little more than a rally for reform.
As the noise died down, Mayor Mare approached Rich. “What is it that you are suggesting?” she asked.
He faced her, frowning. “I simply ask for justice, Mayor Mare. Perhaps expulsion from town would suffice.”
She fixed a stern glare at him. “As much as I concur your enthusiasm and desire to improve this community, Dusk’s needles and behaviors are not grounds for expulsion.”
He nodded, visibly disappointed. “Regardless, I’m sure eventually the right decision will be made.”
“I certainly hope so. Goodness knows that Dusk has stirred up some… interesting things, hasn’t he?”
He nodded again, and Mayor stepped back. Twilight saw Ditzy angrily stand, before flying out in a huff, Turner following. Before he had completely left, he glanced once more at the business stallion. Twilight saw absolute loathing in his eyes.
She wasn’t sure what to feel herself. Rich was rather eccentric; and his attitude towards his daughter’s behavior was most definitely troublesome. Yet she could deny the obvious danger that Dusk potentially posed.
Something had to happen, and something would happen, given time. She wasn’t sure if she wanted anything to happen.
The Hall’s clambering eventually mellowed out, and several ponies began to leave. They were still charged from the whole event; several were even talking about actively expelling Dusk from Ponyville through force. Mayor Mare was quick to put down the rowdy, reminding them that the legislature would deal with this. “No matter how convincing Rich is,” she added with a slight frown.
Several residents remained, among them being Twilight, Rainbow, Spike, and the Crusaders. The lavender unicorn was unusually silent, thinking deeply about what had just transpired. At first, Dusk threatening Rich seemed farfetched; but now that she thought about it, she couldn’t put it past the pewter stallion. He had, after all, yelled at her when he discovered the missing syringe. Though, in retrospect, she supposed there was some justification; she had stolen it, after all. In that sense, perhaps Dusk’s threat to Rich and his daughter was just the same.
Nopony really liked Diamond, and most were neutral to Rich. The town had adopted a sort of “neutral” policy, thinking that one day Diamond would grow out of her bullying. Twilight still held onto that hope, and the Crusaders had certainly been less affected by the filly’s jabs as time went on.
That, of course, still made her wonder why Dusk had reacted so violently. It was one thing confronting the bullies; it was another to threaten Rich, one of the most powerful ponies in town.
Inwardly, though, she had to agree with Dusk. If the town wasn’t going to do anything—and it likely wouldn’t—then perhaps it was best that an outsider stepped in and took matters into their own hooves.
She glanced at Spike and the Crusaders, who were busy conversing. The fillies had quickly recovered from the accusations, and were easily talking with the baby dragon. After some words were exchanged, Spike walked back over to Twilight.
“What were you four talking about?” she asked.
“Dusk,” he answered, though his tone was less harsh than she expected. “I asked them what they thought of him.”
“What did they say?”
He shrugged. “They said he’s not so bad once you get to know him. He’s pretty smart, has some varied skills, and can quite friendly and comforting in some situations. From what they’ve said, I think he’s only ever explosive when something major happens.” The syringes and Dusk confronting Diamond and Silver rose to mind.
She nodded. “What do you think of him, Spike?”
Again he shrugged, though he had a slight frown. “I still don’t like that he yelled at you all those days ago. But he did apologize at the party. And… from hearing what Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle have said, I don’t think he’s the bad guy that Rich is making him out to seem. But,” he added, “I still feel somewhat… uneasy whenever he pops up in conversation.” He shivered. “Remind me not to get on his bad side.”
She couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Don’t worry, Spike. I think he’s only against bullies in particular.”
The dragon walked away, satisfied with her response. She felt a sense of pride watching him go, knowing that he wasn’t about to hold any grudges towards Prosa.
Now if only some ponies could do the same…
With a whoosh and a soft landing, Rainbow Dash appeared by her side. A scowl darkened her face, and her mane seemed to flash even more brilliantly. Her magenta eyes were lit up with pure emotion.
“Oh, hey, Rainbow,” Twilight greeted, trying to ignore the obvious fire in her friend’s gaze. “What’s up—”
“What should we do, Twilight?” she suddenly interrupted.
Twilight blinked. “I’m… sorry, what?”
“About Dusk, I mean?”
Twilight frowned. “I… imagine we will leave that up to Dusk himself—”
“No! I mean, how are we going to get him out of here?”
“Get him out—Rainbow, nopony is driving Dusk out of town!”
“But we should, don’t you think?”
Twilight gaped at her friend. “Rainbow, didn’t you hear what Mayor Mare said? There’s no evidence that would give reason to expel Dusk!”
“He’s a user! That should be enough evidence!”
By now, Rainbow’s outbursts were attracting the Crusaders’ attention. They walked over, a bit worried. “Twilight? Rainbow? Is everything alright?”
Twilight sighed. “Yes, girls, everything’s fine. Rainbow’s just a little high-strung, that’s all.” She looked back at the pegasus with a frown. “Besides, there’s no evidence that Dusk even is a user.”
“Uh, hello?” Rainbow waved her forelegs in the air. “Guy has needles and lives at the edge of town! If that doesn’t scream suspicion, I don’t know what does!”
“I’m not saying that your suspicions are wrong,” Twilight said. “I’m just saying they could be misguided. Besides, Fluttershy lives at the edge of town, too!”
“Yeah, but she’s not Dusk Prosa!”
“Yes, and you’re not him either! You don’t get to assume he’s a user just because he has syringes!” She leveled a hard glare on the cyan pegasus. “Somepony could assume that you are a Wonderbolt simply because you have Wonderbolt memorabilia—”
“And I will be a Wonderbolt one day!”
“—but that wouldn’t be true, because you aren’t actually a Wonderbolt at all!” Twilight huffed. “Look, Rainbow, I get that you’re not very trusting of Dusk, given his behavior. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to throw him out of town on a simple hunch!”
Rainbow looked like she was about to retort, but she held herself back. Slowly she lowered herself to the ground, shaking all over. “Maybe if there was more evidence to be found,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” She paused, thinking about something. She then turned to Scootaloo, who was looking at her worriedly. “What are ya doing for the next few days, squirt?”
“Um, nothing much, I don’t think. Maybe at the end of the week I’ll go Crusading. Mom says I should rest up for a few days. Why?”
Rainbow dodged the question. “Who will you be going with?”
“Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, of course. Oh, and probably Dusk,” she added, not catching the breath of relief that Rainbow let out.
“Okay, that’s good. Here, Scootaloo, let me take you home.” She grabbed the orange filly before she could say otherwise, and flew out the door into the night.
Twilight blinked. It surprised her that Rainbow had gone from extremely livid to quite calm in the span of seconds. She glanced down, seeing similar expressions on Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom’s faces.
“Ah guess Rainbow’s okay now?” Apple Bloom commented.
“I guess so,” answered Twilight unsurely.
The fillies soon had to go, leaving Twilight in the Hall with only a few other ponies. One of them walked up to her. He was a blue-grey with a taupe mane, his pine-green eyes glinting in warm laughter.
She smiled as he approached. “Evening, Doctor Irons.”
“A pleasure, Twilight,” he responded with a grin. “Just saw Rainbow fly off. Something bothering her?”
She nodded. “A certain stallion, in fact.”
“Ah, yes, Dusk Prosa.” He chuckled. “I had a feeling he would get some mixed… reactions while he stays in our town.”
“If by mixed, you mean practical hostility by everypony.”
“Now, now, there’s no need to be pessimistic. He has the little fillies he’s, how you say, ‘crusaded’ with, to back him, does he not?” He looked up in mild contemplation. “Not to mention, Pinkie Pie, myself, Nurse Redheart, and Ditzy and Time Turner.”
Twilight nodded at that, though a frown crossed her features. “I find it kind of interesting how you’re already allying yourself with Dusk.”
He laughed. “Interesting is one way to put it. Some of my staff call it completely insane!”
“Is it because he was your patient?”
“That’s part of it.” He let out a sigh. “That bugger certainly is an interesting fella, isn’t he?” He glanced at Twilight. “Call it doctor’s instinct if you want. Patent pending.” He squinted at Twilight. “You said I’ve allied with Dusk already. Why that choice of words?”
She couldn’t really know why. “It felt… appropriate, I guess.”
“Like there’s a war going on?”
She shivered. “Really, Doctor? You think Dusk could stage a full-on conflict?”
“Or accidentally instigate one, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” He huffed. “Nevertheless, I don’t care what that buffoon Rich has said. I’m gonna side with Dusk on this one.”
Twilight looked at him inquisitively. “But why? What about him makes you want to side with him?”
He was silent for a moment, considering his answer. “Maybe it’s just an overly optimistic old fool…” He chuckled. “Sounds like something ol’ Prosa would say.” He looked back at Twilight. “Despite the way we’ve seen him act—that is, secluded, cold, even violent—something tells me that underneath that fierce exterior, is a heart that truly cares for his fellow pony.”
“Noblehearted?”
“Or in possession of a heart of gold.” Irons shrugged. “It’s just a hunch. But I’d say it’s a damn good one at that.”
He began walking away, but before adding in a few words. “That stallion fought wolves all the way from the Shades. He traveled days just to reach Ponyville. He’s incredibly smart, with a skill in observing to match. And he’s not afraid to stand up to bullies of all kinds, both child and adult. Call him what you want—crazy, weird, a user—he still has some noble qualities about him that make him good in my book.” He soon left the Hall.
Spike walked up to Twilight. “You okay, Twi?”
“Yes, Spike. Just thinking.”
“What about?”
“Just… the present and future.”
He frowned, before tallying it up to Twilight being Twilight. “Ready to go?”
She smiled down at him. “Yes, let’s.”
To Dusk, he measured the sounds coming from the town to nothing more than the establishment’s usual antics. It did not bother him that he had not been invited to the event. He had no intention of ever going.
But that did not mean that the stallion was happy at home. If one were to chance a glance inside, they would see a disheveled pony staring back at them, eyes tired and dull. Prosa had spent the last few nights laying awake, unable to sleep. Nightmares of events from the past, of monsters and ponies and his own dark actions, kept him awake. Slumber now was a rare reprieve, and it never was peaceful.
All he could see in front of him was himself. But it wasn’t the calm, slightly cold stallion that the town had grown accustomed to. No, it was a stallion who was on the brink of his own self-imposed edges. Every barrier he had implemented, in the hope they would prolong the inevitable, were beginning to collapse. He knew that soon, his dark persona would return; and he had no means of stopping it.
Time had not been friendly to Dusk. Not that it showed any bias towards anything, he supposed. If anything, the amount of time he was on worsened his situation.
A chill ran down his spine as he continued thinking. Fragments, shattered and broken, flew past his mind at breakneck speeds. He almost was not fast enough to catch them, only just retaining enough to form coherent memories.
He saw his first mission, breaking into a young couple’s home because they were supposedly corrupt. Yet, as he remembered the distraught face of the marefriend, he now could not say that his actions were honorable.
His mind jumped forward. He had to enter the 50th floor of an apartment building, at night. He had been practicing with several skilled gymnasts, in order to scale the humongous building without tools. He had always felt that one should teach themselves the skills they thought were necessary, instead of relying solely on a given method. He had scaled that building near effortless, silent and dark. He had surprised the pony sleeping, nearly giving him a heart attack.
That memory of the old stallion collapsing remained ingrained in his mind. He survived; but that mission had scarred him immensely.
Dusk’s memories played on, still shattered like shards of glass. For some reason, he only remembered the malicious acts he had undertook. His mind reacted to this bias, making the memory even more sinister and guilt-ridden. Crying faces became loud sobs and wails; fear became absolute horror; his shadow became the silhouette of a demon.
He was a monster, and Filthy Rich’s confrontation had further proven that. Dusk’s anger was infamously explosive; it had served him well in his past life, he supposed, but it did no good here. There was no point in denying what was already told, then. Dusk was, and always would be, a monster, whether he, the town, or Equestria liked it or not.
Such a thought slightly reassured him. Another truth? It seemed that they were popping up all around as of late. Maybe it was the town’s fault that his past refused to leave him be…
No, he thought. It’s not their fault. It’s mine. I chose this life. Therefore, it is my sole responsibility.
Logically, he ought to own up. Admit his mistakes, try to move on, accept his past. But he couldn’t. He could never forgive himself for what he had done. No matter how much seeming good came out of his actions, he still felt that what he had done was unforgivable.
It was ironic, almost. His mantra, omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis, suggested that he appreciated change more than anything. Yet, here he was, unable to change himself. Unable to change his view of the past.
He wondered if that made him a hypocrite, or an ignoramus. Perhaps it made him stubborn; or maybe he was simply afraid of confronting his own self.
After all, he wasn’t the nicest of ponies; and he doubted that his “new” self would be able to handle his “old.” His choices led him to here; he was afraid to go back.
The whole situation reminded him of an old epic poem he had read during his scholarly pursuits in Canterlot. It had inspired him to write his award-winning graduation essay, and had set him down this path. Where had he gone wrong? Perhaps he should have stayed in school. Perhaps he shouldn’t have picked up the pen. Perhaps he should not have gotten that letter, asking him to come home, because his parents were in the hospital and needed him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have fulfilled an old promise.
He blinked as a thought struck him. If such events, such choices, had not been made, would he have been better off? The idealist in him seemed to think so; and his cynical side, though wary, was tempted to make the same call. But the realist inside, the constant reasoner, the true “Dusk Prosa,” said otherwise. He, that side argued, would have been even more ignorant than he was all those years ago.
If, that side said, he had not taken the choices he had chosen, then he would have been on a different path. He would not have had to go to Ponyville and vanish, yes; but in turn, he would not have encountered those fillies that he had grown to appreciate. He might not have even given his friend hope.
Dusk’s situation, then, was unique. Presenting both positives and negatives, to both reality and the hypothetical, he existed in some contemporary yin and yang sequence. Never truly in white, nor black. Though he viewed the world as such, he himself was different. His grey coat was the world’s grey; he was the in-between, the bridge between old and new, ignorance and enlightenment. Never truly escaping, never truly forgetting.
In that sense, he could not hope for a normal life. He was caught up in way too much. Against his wishes and better judgement, he had become part of an intricate world, and he was a central character in that world’s story. Perhaps, Ponyville was the center stage, the main setting. The fillies were the supporting characters. His past was the plot. His actions, the events that had transpired. His present, the rising action and climax. His rumination, the falling action. His future, the resolution.
All stories have to end. With all that has happened, maybe it is safe to say that Dusk Prosa’s is approaching the final act.
He wasn’t scared, nor was he eager. He was simply silent, unsure and yet sure, paradoxical yet logical. Whatever end waited for him… well, it was his end. His choice.
Another truth. He was free to make that decision, away from the manipulation that had conquered him in the past.
But that was a truth born out of tragedy. Once again he was reminded of his mistakes, and was unsure what to do about them. He could not run forever; he could not hide for much longer.
Whether it was the town, Grifford Finch, the Crusaders, or himself who uncovered the truth first was unknown.
Dusk Prosa simply sat there, in his room, lost in his thoughts, not knowing whether or not he would—or even should—ever get up.
