//------------------------------// // VIII: Settling In // Story: A Prose By Any Other Name // by Jarvy Jared //------------------------------// Dusk let out a brief breath as he walked out of the Mayor’s Office. He glanced up, and saw the sun beginning to settle into its afternoon phase. He squinted in the harsh light, realizing how much time had passed since he had been discharged from the hospital just that morning. At least I got most of what I wanted done, he thought as he made his way down the road. Now all that’s left to do is to get my clothes back. I hope Rarity has finished them. He frowned slightly. There’s also something I have to also address there as well…  He turned, intending to make his way towards the Boutique, when something pink suddenly shot up in front of him. Startled, he fell back on his haunches with a strangled cry. He quickly calmed down once he saw who it was. He rolled his eyes. “Miss Pie!” Pinkie smiled down at him. “Hello, Dusk!” He stood, dusting himself off. “What do you want, Miss Pie?” She bounced all around him. “I know why you’ve been so mean lately!” He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Do tell.” “It’s easy! You’re still recovering from being attacked by those wolves; what you need is a chance to unwind!” “Sure, yes, whatever. Let’s go with that,” he said, brushing past her. She followed him, ecstatic as ever. “What were you doing in Mayor Mare’s office?” “Business.” “What kind of business?” “Housing.” “Ooh, cool. Were you trying to sell her a house?” A faint grin crossed his lips. “Not exactly. More of the opposite, really.” “More of the opposite—” She interrupted herself with a loud gasp. “Oh! I get it!” She beamed at him. “You’re moving into Ponyville!” “Indeed,” he said dismissively, not caring that she seemed exceptionally happy over this. “You’re quite perceptive, Miss Pie.” Not catching his mocking tone, she said, “Oh, thank you! Just call me Pinkie Pie; all my friends do it!” He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off with a giggle. “Oh, wait! We’re not friends!” She smiled at him. “At least, not yet.” He rolled his eyes. “Right.” “Oh, but now that you’re moving in, there’s so many things I have to do!” She turned away. “How many balloons will I need? Who do I invite?” Dusk gave her a curious look. “What are you planning, Miss Pie?” “A party!” she exclaimed, beaming back at him. “For who?” “Somepony special!” She glanced away for a second. “Ooh, I hope he likes it!” Prosa nodded slowly. “I’m sure he will.” “Oh, wait! I don’t know what kind of cake he likes!” She frowned for a moment, before suddenly turning to Dusk. “What’s your favorite kind of cake?” The stallion was taken by surprise by the question. “Me? What are you asking me for?” She shrugged. “I just need suggestions, that’s all.” Dusk was not particularly an expert in party etiquette. He never really liked them in the first place. They were often times too loud, and filled with ponies he could care less about. His first thought was to answer with a snide, “I don’t care,” but, after a quick thought process, realized that it would be better to answer with something else. “I… prefer mousse cake,” he answered truthfully. Been awhile since I last had it, though. She beamed. “Wow! Good choice!” She then proceeded to bombard him with seemingly random question after random question concerning what to put in the party, ranging from the types of balloons to the candles on the cake. Dusk, despite his limited experience in party-arranging, did his best to answer each question with a full answer. She hugged him after the barrage of questions had finished. “Thank you, Dusk! I just know that this pony is going to enjoy his party! I’ll be sure to send you an invitation!” Invitation? But she doesn’t even know my address yet— She suddenly bounded off before he could confront her, leaving him alone in the center of Ponyville. He blinked. “… Glad I could help,” he murmured. His lips twitched into a near-smile, but he forced it down. Turning, he walked down the road, making his way to the Boutique. Sweetie Belle sat in one of the chairs, watching Rarity work on the vest and cloak. Her big sister had her brow furrowed in concentration as the sewing machine quietly hummed. Her horn was alight, holding a needle carefully. She arched the needle down and pulled it through one of the holes in the vest, pulling it tightly to seal it. She repeated the action until the hole had been sealed, the blue cloth now completely fixed. As Rarity moved onto the cloak’s holes, she glanced at her sister. “Sweetie Belle,” she said, causing the filly to look at her, “may I ask you something?” Sweetie Belle felt dread seep into her heart, but she did her best to ignore it. “Sure thing, Rarity,” she said in a shaky voice. “Why did you run away from that stallion earlier?” Sweetie winced. She knew that Rarity was going to ask that soon enough. “Run away? W-what do you mean?” Rarity sighed. “Sweetie, you know what I’m talking about.” The filly looked down in shame. “…  I… I don’t really know,” she said. “I mean, I just sort of panicked.” Rarity looked at her sister with concern, but waited for her to continue. “I didn’t expect him to see me! I thought I was pretty well hidden.” “Well, you certainly were,” Rarity said. “I didn’t even see you. How did you do that, anyway?” Sweetie blushed. “Um, well, I tried to hide behind one of the stair posts. I was small enough that I could fit behind it.” Rarity nodded at the explanation. “A-anyway, when Mr. Prosa suddenly looked up at the stairs, I was worried that he’d found me out. Then he started making his way upstairs, and I… well, you know the rest.” Rarity nodded slowly. “But what were you doing on the stairs, anyway?” Sweetie turned away. “I was just curious to see Dusk Prosa again. I didn’t expect for him to suddenly notice me, though.” “I see,” said Rarity. “But you were just… curious?” “Well, yeah,” Sweetie said indignantly. “I did find him first, you know.” “Technically, Steven Magnet found him first.” Rarity turned back to the cloak, changing the thread color to brown. She began patching up the holes. “I must admit, I was rather surprised that he had gotten out of the hospital after only a few days. Most ponies, after sustaining such horrendous injuries, would stay in the hospital for a week or two.” Sweetie was silent for a moment, before asking, “What about you?” “Hm?” “Why did you act all flustered when he said his name?” Rarity glanced at her sister nervously. “W-well, it’s just that… I never expected him to show up in my shop.” “Why?” “W-well, I—” “Does it have to do something with him being a user?” Sweetie blurted. Rarity gasped, dropping the needle. She faced her sister, appalled. “Where did you hear such a thing?” Sweetie blushed furiously, cursing her outburst silently. After a bit of coaxing from Rarity, she confessed that she and the CMC had heard the conversation in the Golden Oak Library. Rarity, after a bit of reprimanding her sister, sighed and turned back to her work. “I suppose I can’t blame you fillies for listening in,” she said. “You would, of course, be curious; especially from the vague answers that Doctor Irons and Twilight gave.” Soon she had finished the cloak, and placed it to the side. Sweetie shook her head. “I don’t understand, though; what’s a user and why’s it wrong?” “Well, you see, Sweetie Belle—” She was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. She turned away from her younger sister. “Come in; it’s open!” she called. The knob turned, and the door was pushed open, revealing a pewter-grey stallion carrying a brown bag. “Mr. Prosa!” Rarity greeted, trying for a smile, which he did not return. “I’ve finished your vest and cloak just in time!” The stallion stepped forward silently, making his way over to the seamstress. His intense gaze was enough to make Sweetie Belle shiver, despite it not being trained on her. He lifted up his vest and cloak, inspecting them closely, making sure that there were no errors. He nodded to himself, then turned to Rarity. “I’m impressed by your work, Miss Rarity,” he said. “I’ve not seen craftsmanship of such high level.” While he said this without so much of a smile, Sweetie Belle could hear a faint kindness and gratitude in his words. Rarity seemed a bit flustered. “W-well, thank you very much, Mr. Prosa. It was a joy working on your clothes.” He nodded, before suddenly turning to Sweetie Belle. The filly nearly collapsed under his gaze, the pink orbs seeming like they were staring into her soul. Seconds passed, but they felt like hours to her, and she could not help but glance at her sister for help. Rarity was at a loss as to what Dusk was doing. “This is her, isn’t she?” he murmured. “The one I caught on the stairs…” Sweetie gulped, but nodded in affirmation. He bent down so that his face was at her level. The intensity of his gaze was still there, but Sweetie thought she saw something else. Something… vulnerable. She wasn’t sure how else to explain it, other than it was different than before. Gone was the coldness that he had continuously put on, replaced with a different emotion. “What is your name?” he asked softly. “S-S-Sweetie B-Belle,” she stammered. He smiled, and once again she was surprised. There seemed to be genuine warmth in his smile. Rarity also seemed to notice this, as she was staring at Dusk with wide eyes. “A pleasure to meet you formally, Miss Sweetie Belle.” “I-it’s nice to meet you, too,” she said. He stood, still looking down at her. “… I scared you, didn’t I?” he asked softly. “When I came here first… when I looked up the stairs… I scared you…” Unsure how to respond, Sweetie simply nodded. He sighed, and Sweetie thought she could practically feel something similar to sadness well up in him. “I am truly sorry for scaring you, Miss Belle.” He frowned. “It was rather… mean of me, wasn’t it? Especially since you were the one who spotted me on that serpent’s back.” She looked at him in surprise. “Huh? How’d you know that?” His smile returned, though it seemed weaker. “I wasn’t fully unconscious. I recognized your voice.” She nodded thoughtfully. He chuckled lightly. “I must admit, you surprised me when you suddenly darted up the steps.” Her eyes lit up in surprise. “Really?” “Yes; I did not expect to find a filly hiding behind one of the posts. In fact, I’m not sure I expected to find something at all.” Sweetie giggled at that. Dusk smiled. “So, do you accept my apology?” The white filly nodded with a small smile. “I do.” “Thank you very much, then.” Prosa turned back to his cloak and vest. Grabbing them, he quickly put them on, before turning to Rarity. He dug around his satchel, before procuring a few golden bits. He gingerly placed them in Rarity’s hoof. “Your payment.” “Oh, I can’t charge you for that—” she tried to say. “You’re the business owner; I am the customer. Simple as that,” he interrupted. He turned, making his way to the door. Sweetie and Rarity watched him go, the former smiling at the stallion, while the latter still looked a bit confused. Before he had reached the door, however, he glanced over his shoulder at the two. “Miss Rarity,” he said, “no doubt that you and your friends have some… ideas regarding who I am and what it is that I am doing. I won’t try to stop you from thinking such things.” He fell silent for a moment, before continuing, “Be aware, however, that I do hear, and I do comprehend, what you say about me.” Rarity was about to question further, but he trotted out, closing the door shut. Sweetie looked at her sister. Whatever trepidation that Rarity had been feeling upon Dusk’s arrival had vanished, replaced with simple confusion. “What do you think of him now, Rarity?” Sweetie asked. Rarity shook her head to clear her mind. “I guess… perhaps he is not as bad as I thought he would be.” “But… he’s a user, right?” “That’s what we think.” “Does that make him a bad pony?” Rarity sighed. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Sweetie Belle.” She turned to clean up her work. Sweetie looked once more at the closed door, imagining Dusk Prosa in her mind. He certainly was strange. First he had seemed cold and distant; but to her, he had appeared as a warm and kind stallion. It was like he had been two different ponies; two different personalities, in the face of different situations. Those two personalities conflicted, though, clashing and fighting like mortal enemies. She wondered how he managed having such conflicted identities. She hoped that the kind one would, in the end, win the battle. I know I’m not the kindest of ponies. And I doubt I ever will be. But… I just couldn’t bear to not apologize to that filly for scaring her. Dusk sighed. I also know that there is a lot of suspicion on me right now. Mostly due to these… curses. He glanced down at his bag, a frown crossing his features as he saw the faint outline of the points. Nervousness welled up within him. I wish I didn’t have this condition. The ponies’ looks of disdain don’t usually hurt me, but they can become tiresome. Speaking of my condition, what time is it? He glanced up at the sky, seeing that the sun was now at a lower angle. Good, right on time. Once I move in, I’ll be able to get this over with. He trudged down the road, with his cloak’s hood pulled back to air out his mane. He glanced at a few ponies passing by, wondering what they thought of him. Am I just another pony to them? Or perhaps, something more? Dusk Prosa, the mysterious stallion from the north. Owner of at least several dozen syringes. He sighed softly. I suppose this is what I wanted. But this isn’t how I expected it to turn out. His thoughts drifted back to his interaction with Sweetie Belle. I did something I probably should not have done. I dropped my guard. But it was necessary, wasn’t it? I had to show myself differently to ease that filly. He frowned. But Rarity was there. She saw me drop my guard. Now she knows that I’m not the coldest stallion in town. Will this spell disaster for me, though, I wonder? He shook his head. Better to leave that issue for another day. I’ve one more thing to do. He walked in silence as he made his way to the north side of town. His thoughts cut out most the outside noise, and soon he found himself facing a dirt road leading to Canterlot. He glanced up, suddenly aware of how quickly he had gotten there. Losing focus, lost in my thoughts. Gotta concentrate. He began walking down the road, listening to the surrounding wildlife. A few birds were chirping, and several squirrels ran on by, stopping to stare at him for a second. He walked past them in silence, though he did give a few some passing glances. He felt a twinge of pain as a few of the animals ran away, fearful of his intense stare, but fought the feeling aside. He had chosen to look that way for a reason; and he wasn’t about to abandon that lesson. Soon, he had reached where he needed to be. Despite the Mayor’s warnings, Dusk was still caught by surprise by what he saw. The house was a faded brown, with dust and grime settling on the outside boards. The windows were dusty and covered by thick blinds, masking the inside of the building. The porch was also a faded brown, with broken steps leading up the door. The porch ceiling hung precariously, supported by four wooden support beams that looked as if they might collapse at any minute. The door was a simple screen door with a wooden back; it was perhaps the only item in good condition. Dusk glanced up, seeing that the roof had miraculously no holes in it. He could see a small, brick chimney rising out of the left side of the roof. The light-grey shingles looked sturdy enough, and he noticed a gutter running along the edges, trailing down to the ground. Based on the height of the building, he surmised that it was perhaps two stories tall, with an attic at the top. Bigger than I expected. Oh well. He stepped forward onto the patio, careful to avoid any weak boards. He carefully opened the screen and wooden doors, stepping inside and glancing around. Surprisingly, the inside was in much better repair than the outside. Cherry wood floors covered the ground, with a star-patterned rug being the entrance carpet. In front of him was a hallway leading into the kitchen. The walls were a faded white, running up the ceiling. Next to the hall were a set of stairs leading up to the second level. He took another step forward, placing a hoof on a mahogany table with a small lamp. Dust instantly covered the bottom of his hoof. Intrigued, he pulled the chain, and the lamp lit up. Impressive. This place still runs electricity. He walked into the kitchen, the white marble tiles clacking under his hooves. A large kitchen table was in the center, with eight chairs on its sides, circling it. It had a granite counter that was also dusty, but he figured he could clean it later. A large chandelier stuck to the ceiling, and with a pull of the chain, he confirmed it to still be working. To the front of the kitchen were a sink and an oven. They were rather simple; but he didn’t mind. The sink was a marble counter on top of a wooden cabinet, the pipe running down the insides. The oven was a dark-steel color, with a few knobs to adjust the heat. He noticed that these were not as dusty as the other furniture, their surfaces rather shiny in comparison with everything else. At the end of the sink was a large, white freezer and refrigerator, still managing to function. Stepping away from the counter, he made his way to the dining area, which was to the left of the kitchen. Cherry wood returned as the floor, with the faded white walls also making a reappearance. The table stood sturdily on four legs, with six chairs on its sides. Another chandelier hung overhead; he quickly checked to make sure it worked, making a satisfied smirk when he confirmed it. Turning his head, he saw that another archway led to another room. After one final glance around the dining room, he walked into the new area. This, he assumed, was living room area, judging by the three, olive green sofas that complemented the dark, wooden floor. The sofas faced a stony structure that Dusk decided to inspect. He knelt down, seeing that charcoal sat in the mouth of the structure. He saw that the column ran upwards and out of the house itself. So this is the fireplace and chimney. He found himself grinning. Nice. After a few more walks around the first floor, he decided to make his way upstairs. Returning to the entrance, he carefully stepped up the steps, the wood creaking under his weight. The upstairs floor was apparently devoid of any light fixtures, so he had to carefully make his way to each room. There were three: the bathroom, a bedroom, and a storage room, the latter of which led to the attic. He walked over to the bedroom and peered inside. The room was extremely dusty, and he let out a few coughs while waving his hoof. To the side was a simple, alder-wood desk with a similar wooden chair. There were a few small cabinets to hold some trinkets at the ends. At the other side of the room was a royal blue bed, neatly made and the covers tucked behind the pillows. Next to that was a small nightstand with a lamp on top. To the other side of the bed was a large, walnut bookshelf that was filled with several books. Dust covered the spines, masking their titles. In front of him were a set of windows that let him see past the eastern side of the road. He peered out the window, seeing the north edge of the Everfree in the distance. At that length, the forest seemed peaceful, even serene, and he could not help but smile at the irony. Distance somehow made relative how dangerous a place could be. The closer you were, the more dangerous. Perhaps it is the same with ponies. Perhaps it is the same with me. He walked over to the bed, removing his cloak and draping it at the end. He placed his satchel next to him with a sigh, glancing around. Despite the rather decent state of the inside, he knew he could only ignore the outside for so long. It’ll take time for my address to be established, as well as getting comfortable with my new surroundings. Perhaps I can work on this house in the meantime? He placed a hoof on his satchel, toying with one of the zippers, before opening a side compartment. He procured a set of books, and walked over to the bookshelves, placing them on the rack. He waved away some of the dust from the books, revealing their titles. As he replaced and organized, he mentally went over the titles of the books. History of Equestria… Pro Quibus Supponit… The Equestria Heritage Dictionary… His hoof raced across the spines as he saw each title, before stopping at the three books he had placed. Jaded Storm, A Game of Flames, and X25. He smirked as he looked at the name of the author of the trio. Opacare Prose. You may be dead, old friend, but you live on in your books. I’m surprised that your fame managed to reach this far into Equestria. Prosa looked down. Still, though, there is a hint of regret from what I had to do. But I still think it was necessary. He walked back over to the bed, plopping himself down next to the bag. He suddenly remembered the second task he needed to perform, and mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do next. He turned and opened the top of the bag, revealing the prickly points of the syringes. He gulped, apprehension rising in his throat, and he struggled to calm his heart. He gingerly picked up one of the syringes, his hoof shaking in near panic. He brought the point to his left foreleg and closed his eyes. He could practically hear his heart hammering in his chest as the point grew closer to his body. Every second I waste means a life is in peril. I have to get this over with, and quickly. With a grunt, he stuck the point into his foreleg, and pulled the pump back. Red liquid slowly filled the tube, and he waited a few seconds for it to fill completely. Once it was done, he quickly removed the syringe with a gasp. He noticed that sweat was dripping down the sides of his face, and he wiped the drops away. One… down… several dozen more to go. He stepped up from the bed, holding the syringe in front of him. He carefully made his way down the steps and into the kitchen. He opened the freezer door and placed the syringe inside one of the empty ice racks. He then closed the door with a fast exhale. Dusk then returned upstairs. He opened the other compartments of his bag, revealing several strange items. He first grabbed a black inkwell that appeared empty, and then a blue quill. He placed them on the desk side by side, in a certain position, as if he had done the action numerous times. He then grabbed a roll of papers and placed them on the desk in the center, next to the quill and inkwell. Finally, he took out a small, framed photo, gently placing it on the desk. Within the photo frame were two earth ponies. On the left was a light-grey stallion with a navy mane, and on the left was a gunmetal mare with a baby-blue mane. They smiled at him, though they were empty expressions. His heart longed to feel their smiles first hooved. But he knew he never would. Nonetheless, he tried to ignore the depressing emotions, in favor of his recent positivity. The plan is coming together. All I have to do is stay out of the spotlight, and I’ll be fine. He looked around, satisfied with what he had done so far. But my work is far from over. He glanced out the window, seeing that it was still late in the afternoon. Good. There’s still some time. I think I’ll go out and grab a few supplies for the house. He grabbed his satchel, carefully closing the top and making sure that his bits were still all there. He nodded to himself, before slinging it over his shoulder and making his way downstairs. He reached the door and opened it, walking outside. Though the house was still in disarray, there was no doubt about it; Ponyville had just gotten a little larger. Its newest, and most mysterious resident had just moved in.