Duskfall

by Celestial Swordsman

Drift

Chapter 4

On the outside Dusk was free, but she still felt trapped. She had left her purpose behind her, that is, if she had truly ever known her purpose. What was done was done, and she couldn’t go back.

She stood in the rain unmotivated and directionless. She let it soak through her fur and hoped it might wash her clean. Her dry skin drank in the water along with its chill. A shiver reminded her of the physical limitations on her emotional languor. She would have to take care of herself. She took shelter under an overhang on a building she did not care to identify. Water rushed through the gutter. It couldn’t be clean, but she was parched. She lapped it up greedily. It wasn’t so bad except for the aftertaste.

She looked back at the entrance to the prison. “There goes my room and board,” she groaned half-sarcastically. She reviewed it in her mind: hard stone, wind, interrogations, tight rations, Onyx… “I can do better,” she concluded, “or at least I can’t do worse.”

She looked around to take in the urban scene and gain some direction. Her mental map for this part of the city was blank. Dusk didn’t even know what she wanted. Feeling restless, she picked a street and began to walk down it. If she couldn’t have any direction, she could at least have a direction.

What was she looking for? What did ponies in her position do? When they were sick and tired and fed up but didn’t have anything to do with their time, where did they go? As she rounded a corner, a neon sign announced “Prancing Pony ” and “Spirits”. That seemed to make sense to Dusk. She pulled the door open and ducked in out of the rain.

There was little more light here than in the prison, but a lot more color. Bottles clinked and patrons murmured over their beverages. She shook some of the water out of her fur and took her place at the bar. The bartender, a lean old colt with a balding mane, approached and asked, “What’ll you have?”

“Give me something hard,” she requested.

He gave her a squint he reserved for a particular kind of customer. “I’ve got the good stuff,” he promised, but continued wisely, “but that ain’t cheap. Show me some cash.”

“Huh?” she weakly replied.

“No bits no beer,” he declared. “I don’t give nothing for pity.” He turned and resumed his other duties.

“Crap,” Dusk thought, “Should have thought of that. How am I supposed to get bits?”

A blue mare in a red dress entered and sat at the other end of the bar. She leaned on the bar with her hoof on her neck. The bartender didn’t approach her; she had a purse but it remained dormant. Soon a handsome colt approached the bar and asked for a shot. He turned to the pretty pony, smiled, and offered, “Should I make it two?”

She tossed a purple curl of her mane and shot back, “If you want a chance.”

Dusk watched her with interest as she received drink after drink. Dusk leaned against the bar and put her hoof on her neck in imitation of the beauty, who was her role model for now. A tall colt in a leather jacket got up from a table and slammed some bits down on the counter nearby. “Barkeep, I need another round,” he ordered.

Dusk put on her best airs and enticed, “Make it two—if you want a chance.”

He reeled back from the still-dripping, gaunt pegasus figure beside him. As he accepted his drink from the bartender, he motioned to Dusk and remarked, “Watch out, you’ve got a real spitfire here.”

The old bartender glowered at her wrathfully and called to some corner, “Big Happy, I got one for you.” “Big Happy” loomed out of the shadows and grabbed Dusk’s shoulder. The bouncer shoved her over to the door and flung her into the street. She splashed down into the gutter. She lay where she fell and soaked up the downpour.

A healthy gray pegasus with a blond mane and tail dropped out of the sky and alighted by the bar. She took a few steps toward the door before she stopped herself and shook her head. The stranger stood heavy with internal struggle until she spotted Dusk. She considered the bar and then the little reject. Dusk looked up as the stranger approached her and asked, “Are you okay?”

Dusk shook her head honestly. The stranger came up alongside Dusk and stretched out her wing to shield Dusk’s face from the rain. She introduced herself, “I’m Ditzy Doo.” Dusk couldn’t help but stare at Ditzy’s eyes, which were somehow looking different directions. Anyway, Dusk was in no position to judge whether any pony’s eyes were strange, and Ditzy’s disjointed gaze was soft. “Well, ponies who don’t like me call me Derpy Hooves sometimes,” Ditzy elaborated, “but most ponies call me Ditzy Doo. My special friends also call me Derpy Hooves, but it’s a good thing.”

“I’m Dusk,” said pony reciprocated.

“What’s wrong? Why don’t you get out of the rain?” Ditzy questioned her.

“I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have anything,” she lamented.

“Oh you poor pony,” Ditzy sympathized. “Do you have any pony to help?”

“No,” Dusk moaned, “Nopony knows me.”

“You don’t look so good. You should really get inside before you catch a cold,” Ditzy Doo advised, and added kindly, “Why don’t you come to my place?”

Dusk blinked, and mumbled, “Um, okay.”

Ditzy Doo led her down several streets to the barred entrance of a menacing concrete building. The huge gate muffled internal thuds and clanging metal. “This—is your house?” Dusk stammered.

Ditzy Doo chuckled, “No, silly, up there.” The clouds above still cast down water, but also hid regular shapes with darker shadows.

“I’m not sure I can get up there,” Dusk admitted.

Derpy frowned at her guest’s deficient wings, and then smiled. “It’s not far, we can do it together!” They took flight—except that Dusk barely got hooves off the ground. She started to sink back down, but Ditzy grabbed her and hoisted her into the air. They rose up the side of the building and towards the sky. While Ditzy provided most of the thrust, her aim was less impressive than her wings. She accidentally crashed her partner into the edge of the roof.

Dusk yelped and fell half on top of the building, clinging to it desperately. Ditzy offered an apologetic squee and picked her back up. With one last exertion they broke the low cloud layer and Dusk found herself suddenly inside some sort of room.

Ditzy Doo turned on the light, revealing a very small cloud home with few furnishings, but altogether better than a dungeon. She shook herself dry and greeted, “Welcome to my apartment!” Dusk hardly looked at the place, more occupied with panting and shivering. “Of course, silly me,” Derpy apologized, “we better get you cleaned up.” She casually scooped a dollop of cloud out of her own wall and pushed it down on the middle of Dusk’s forehead. Dusk squinted and shrugged away. “Hold still and let me get you warm and dry,” Ditzy soothed. Feeling that the top of her head was now surprisingly dry, Dusk acceded. Ditzy sponged the puff along her guest’s back. It pushed through the hairs straight to the skin, taking in any water it touched, almost like magic. She squeezed it out and the water fell harmlessly through the floor. Ditzy Doo continued with smooth, practiced movements, and soon had dried the entire pony.

Dusk was left to think, “She’s almost too good at this.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Ditzy said. Dusk looked for somewhere to sit. Apparently a table was one of those things that weren’t necessary. Her hostess retrieved a couple of apples and sat down next to her. They crunched into the fruit, and Dusk relished the experience like it was the best thing she had ever eaten.

“How long have you been here?” Ditzy asked.

“Not very long.” That was…true?

“Me too. I guess that’s why you don’t have anything. I got a job pretty quick, so I get to have this place.” She grinned at her adequate dwelling like it was a palace. “Where is your family?”

Dusk had to consider the question; it had been so long since she thought about that. “Far away,” she replied.

“Mine too,” Ditzy sympathized. “What did you do before you came here?”

Dusk gulped a bite of apple and exclaimed, “N—nothing! Err, I mean, I was, uh, a cashier.”

Finding herself unable to provoke a conversation, Ditzy announced, “Time to go to sleep.”

She slipped out the door and returned with a cumulous lump from the edge of her cloud. “I got your bed,” she explained. “Do you sleep with a window? I could open one up for you.”

Dusk closed her eyes and pictured a hole in the cloud with iron bars across it. A black hoof slowly snuck through the bars and… “No! It’s fine!” she blurted.

Ditzy brought the cloud to a hover in a corner, fluffed it, and stepped back.

Dusk tried to shake the vision from her mind and hopped obligingly onto her new cloud. She tested its softness; it was insane. It was quite cozy to lie on and even teased a smile out of her for a moment. “Thanks, it’s REALLY fluffy.”

Derpy paused to take in the glory of being a good fluffer before landing on her own bed.
Dusk tried to settle down but troubling memories wouldn’t allow it. The last few times she had slept, something bad was happening to her when she woke up.

Ditzy was about to extinguish the lamp when she noticed the expression on her new little friend’s face. She remarked, “You seem kinda scared, like a little filly who thinks Nightmare Moon is coming.”

Dusk’s mouth went dry. “How could I forget?” she anxiously thought. She realized with horror that the cloud home could actually be penetrated from any angle. “I’m a sitting duck up here!” her mind raced. She suddenly felt completely exposed and looked around for signs of impending threats.

Ditzy frowned and complained, “Aren’t you a little old for that?” She rolled back onto the floor, not to be satisfied until the problem was solved. She picked up Dusk and her cloud, looked underneath, and reported, “No monsters under here.” Dusk blinked in disbelief at the disarming ridiculousness that was occurring. “I’ll tuck you in and you’ll feel better,” Ditzy assured. She wrapped the edges of the puff around Dusk until the restless one was snugly enclosed, with just her face uncovered.

Ditzy stopped in front of Dusk and bobbed her head abortively, shying away from some intended action. She was discombobulated; a step in the process had been omitted.

Ditzy sighed and said, “Now go to sleep, silly,” before returning to pursue her own slumber. It was completely illogical, but feeling secure in her puffy fortress, Dusk calmed and drifted off.

Comments

[toafan]

Preliminary analysis:
You've got no clue -- perhaps very little clue, I should say instead, but for my purposes it comes to much the same thing -- what you're doing, but you're going to bully through anyways. Several could-be readers saw and identified this, and down-voted based mainly on that. It's not that you can't bully through, it's just that there's nothing to convince anyone that you definitely can. Further, the story so far is quite different from what I was expecting -- perhaps better assuming -- based on the description, and I'll reckon you got some down-votes for that, too.

Of course, you've also got an untagged major-focus OC. I imagine that doesn't help any, either.

So far, I haven't seen anything I feel worthy of a down-vote. That's about it, though; I haven't read enough to pass a yes/no judgment on it. You have potential, sure, but it's potential to go either way.

I feel it was pretty idiotic of Dusk to try copying that other mare. It seems to me that if you don't know what you're doing, it's generally best to admit that to yourself and those around you, or not go through with it at all. Of course, the other one waited for the stallion to ask first, too.

I'm in the habit of offering corrections, which can lead to me poking my nose in where it's not necessarily wanted, but I think you could add a bit more "color" to this one bit by changing it as follows:

They crunched into the fruit, and Dusk relished the experience like it was the best thing she had ever eaten. Maybe it was, come to think of it.

I recommend only making that change if it's accurate, though.

[Celestial Swordsman]

*OC tagged*

Yeah, what happened in the bar was pretty "". Dusk's actions show she has no street smarts at all, which is odd considering her other displays of wit. It's as if she really was locked up in the palace for years going crazy, but of course, when she said that, she was lying.

It would be good to know, what did you assume it would be like? It's possible that it is, but hasn't developed as quickly as you expected (it's a long story.)