Night fell upon the town of Ponyville, covering the land in a serene darkness. The moon illuminated various parts of the land below, flashing brilliantly past the tall pine trees to the eastern end. The moon rose high above the northern hills, and in its light one could see the faint outline of Canterlot in the distance. Already, the flowers of the night were blooming, covering the landscape with light blue petals. A gentle breeze blew on past, rushing through the trees’ branches, causing several nightingales to fly into the night sky.
As tranquil as the scene was, the town itself was the complete opposite. At a certain town hall, there were the sounds of ponies moving various party decor into the building. A pink pony was managing the arrangements with surprising ease.
“Get those balloons up right away!” ordered Pinkie Pie to a group of ponies. “And you!” She pointed a hoof at an alabaster unicorn and an orange earth pony. “Put up those party banners!”
“Really, Pinkie?” the orange one said, rolling her eyes. “I hardly think Prosa is worth all this trouble.”
“I think he is, Applejack!” Pinkie argued, a mad gleam in her eye. “So you had better get to work with Rarity, got it?!”
Applejack gulped down her pride and set to work, helping Rarity put up the banners.
Meanwhile, Rainbow and Fluttershy were helping put up several orbs of light. While Fluttershy was placing them delicately, Rainbow was quickly throwing them across the hall.
“Careful, Rainbow Dash!” advised Mayor Mare. “We don’t want to break any of these decorations.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. With all the trouble we’re going through, Dusk Prosa had better be grateful!”
“I’m sure he will be,” Fluttershy said as she put up another orb. “Who knows? He might even show a nicer side to him.”
“That’s a far-fetched idea, Fluttershy,” Rainbow responded. “There’s only one side to that guy; and I’m pretty sure ‘nice’ isn’t there!”
Pinkie saw Twilight coming over, and trotted up to her. To her side was Spike, holding a list. “How’s the other stuff going, Twilight?” Pinkie asked.
“The Cakes should be arriving with the chocolate mousse cake any second,” she responded. “I’ve also managed to get Vinyl Scratch to come and play some music.”
“Excellent!” Pinkie exclaimed, clapping her hooves.
Spike glanced around the room, seeing that mostly everything had been done. “Let’s see… hang up the banners, check; put up the balloons, check; place lights, check—”
The door to the hall swung open, revealing Big Mac carefully carrying the prized cake. Evidently, he had been practicing ever since the Friendship Express incident, as now he could easily hold up the delicacy without it wobbling. Behind him were Mr. and Mrs. Cake, still regarding him with a touch of wariness.
“Have you got it, Bic Mac?” Pinkie asked.
“Eeyup.”
“Good! Just set it over there,” she said, pointing to a nearby table. The red stallion nodded and walked over.
“Got the cake, check.” Spike looked up from his scroll. “Have we sent out invitations?”
Pinkie nodded. “Ditzy Doo’s been flying around, handing out the cards.”
“Who’s responded?”
“Everypony in town!” Pinkie squealed, hugging herself. “It’s been awhile since I last threw a huge party together. I think the last time was when Twilight first came to town! Oh, I hope Dusk likes all of this!”
“I’m… sure he’ll be surprised,” Twilight managed to say. The nagging feeling of doubt kept poking at the back of her mind, and she tried to ignore it.
Pinkie suddenly frowned. “What’s wrong?” asked Twilight, looking at her friend in concern.
“I sent an invitation to Dusk, but I don’t remember ever getting a response,” she mumbled. “Maybe he missed it?”
“Maybe you sent it to the wrong address,” suggested Spike.
Pinkie shook her head. “No, that can’t be it. I got Mayor Mare to tell me where he lives.” She shrugged. “Oh, well, he’s probably coming. Maybe he didn’t feel the need to send a response.”
“What, like a surprise appearance?” Spike asked with a roll of his eyes.
Pinkie’s attitude brightened. “Yes! Exactly! I knew he had it in him!” She hugged the young dragon fiercely, before bouncing off to another activity.
They both blinked at the mare’s enthusiasm. Twilight gained a small, slightly confused smile.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to have a party tonight?” Spike asked the unicorn. “I mean, not that I mind, but shouldn’t we also be focusing on searching for that Opacare Prose guy? Or have you forgotten?”
Twilight shook her head. “No, I haven’t forgotten. I was actually hoping to get a few ponies to be on the lookout while the party is going on.” She placed a hoof on her chin pensively. “If Dusk comes, maybe I can convince him to join our watchers?”
She walked over to where Applejack and Rarity where, the two of them busy putting up little globes of light. “Oh, hey, Twilight,” Rarity greeted with a smile.
Twilight nodded back, before saying, “Could I ask you two to return to lookout duty a little later on in the party? I wouldn’t want to possibly miss Prose.”
“Sure thing, Twi,” Applejack drawled, grinning.
“Yes, we’ll keep a keen eye out while we enjoy ourselves,” Rarity added.
“Thanks, girls,” Twilight said with a smile.
Meanwhile, Pinkie had walked up to Mayor Mare with a big smile. The coffee pony was busy pointing out where to place several party decor, but had a frown on her face. “What’s wrong, Mayor?” Pinkie asked.
She turned to face the party mare. “Oh, hello, Pinkie,” she said, the frown lessening slightly. “I’m just thinking.”
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“Well…” She gestured around the hall. “Could you explain to me one more time what we’re doing?”
“It’s simple! We’re throwing together a huge welcome-to-Ponyville party for Dusk Prosa!” Pinkie spread her arms wide. “It’s going to be so amazing!”
Mayor nodded. “That’s nice, Pinkie, but have you considered the pony in question?”
“What do you mean?”
Mayor scuffed her hoof on the floor thoughtfully. “I’m not sure Dusk Prosa is the ‘outgoing’ type. He made it quite clear in his choice of housing.” She glanced at the pink mare. “My point is, how do we know he’s even going to like this party?”
“Oh, he will! I’ll make sure of it!”
“Your optimism is nice, Pinkie. But maybe Prosa wouldn’t like that?”
Pinkie frowned, settling back down on four hooves. “Huh? Why wouldn’t he?”
The mayor sighed. “You’ve seen how he acts—cold, guarded, a bit blunt. He’s not the nicest pony to have graced our town. Who’s to say that he won’t react negatively to all this attention we’re giving to him?”
Pinkie glanced away, the mayor’s words finally sinking in. “I guess it is a bit of a long-shot… he was kinda mean. But!” she added, turning back and regaining her smile. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t welcome him with open hooves!”
Mayor Mare nodded, returning a small smile. “I suppose you’re right. We shouldn’t forgo our natural hospitality. We need to make sure Prosa feels right at home, here in Ponyville.”
Pinkie saluted. “I’m on it, Mayor Mare!”
She scampered off, probably to fulfill another party requirement. Mayor Mare smiled, turning back to the decorations. Perhaps this party will be enough to break that stallion’s icy exterior.
Mayor’s words, however, had done enough to disrupt Pinkie’s normally vibrant attitude. She gazed outside, in deep thought, wondering how she should deal with Prosa’s lack of an answer.
“Maybe if I… No, that wouldn’t work. What about… nah.” She continued mumbling to herself, eyes glossing over as she spoke absentmindedly.
The CMC showed up a few minutes later at the entrance, wearing bright, eager smiles. “Hiya, Pinkie!” Sweetie greeted cheerfully.
Pinkie’s eyes settled on the little unicorn, and she let out a loud gasp. A lightbulb shot of her mane; she grabbed it and tossed it to the side, breaking it. “Sweetie Belle!” she exclaimed, beaming at them. “You’re just the filly I needed!”
The trio shared confused looks. “Wait, what?” asked Sweetie.
“Nevermind that! Just listen, Sweetie Belle. I need you to do something for me…”
The stallion in question glanced out the window of his home, seeing that the night had fallen upon the town. He nearly smiled as he saw the moon shine down upon the hills.
He did not claim to be nocturnal, but those who had known him in the past would comment that he seemed more alive in the night. Perhaps it was because it was the only time of the day in which he received the least attention. Most ponies were busy heading home for a warm dinner before relaxing into a peaceful slumber; but he always worked the hardest at nightfall. The darkness of the world had long been an ally of his, and he had been able to use it to his advantage.
Here, at night, he could let down a few of his barriers, knowing that nothing would be watching. Here he could revel in his privacy, knowing a secret only he knew, relishing the feeling of being the intelligent one in the group. Alone, he prospered; alone, he survived; alone, he lived.
Alone.
That word reverberated around his mind, throwing off his thoughtful mood. Alone? Is that what I am? No; that’s what I chose to be. He tried to reassure himself, but the feeling of doubt persisted.
Alone is the only way that they would survive. Alone is the only way I could hide.
Would it be so bad to belong?
I can never belong. Not with my past.
He glanced at the side of the desk, seeing the mess of invitations that he had gotten from Miss Pie. He had been tempted to throw them away at first glance, but he could not find it in his heart to do that. He hadn’t even opened a single letter, for reasons unknown to even him. As he peered at the papers, what Sweetie Belle had said, as well as his troubled thoughts, swirled around in his mind.
Alone.
But this is a chance to not be?
There was something about those papers that seemed… inviting. Decorated in mint green and bright pink, and adorned with hearts, he could tell that the invitations were to something bright and cheerful—a stark contrast to the atmosphere around the house. On the back of each paper read the same thing:
“To Our Friend, Mr. Prosa.”
So there had to be more ponies involved, based on the wording alone. He reasoned that this had to be some sort of large-scale event. But friend? Prosa nearly chuckled at the word. He was no one’s friend. The closest he ever got was as an ally, nothing more.
Yet, this was Miss Pie he was talking about. From what Mayor Mare had said, as well as his own experience with her, she seemed dead-set on making ponies her friend.
Even he.
He?
I? I am no friend. I have no friends.
He glanced back at the center of the desk, where another letter lay. His thoughts grew even more muddled as he reflected on the letter. If I have no friends, then who is this? An ally? No; he is something more than that. But is he a friend?
Who am I to judge what a friend is and what a friend should be? I, who has no idea what a friend even means.
His frown deepened as one final, confusing question rose to mind. Am I friend of anypony?
A daunting question, if he had ever seen one. He could not reasonably answer it. The only way he could was by asking others.
Which once again brought him back to the invitations. Sighing at the inevitable outcome, he reached out and grabbed them, slowly opening each and reading them.
“You are invited to a party!… You are invited to a party in town!… You are invited to a party in Town Hall!… You are invited to a party in Town Hall tonight!… “ Oddly enough, not one of the letters had the name of the recipient of the party indicated on any of them. He sighed as he tossed the last letter back onto the desk.
“Why a party on a night such as this?” he wondered aloud, once again looking out the window. “A chance to socialize, or a chance to remain hidden? Look out the window, O town, and behold what I behold; a sense of peace, a contrast of the pain and guilt that I have known for so long.” He looked down. Or maybe I’m afraid. Afraid of being in the open.
Lamentation was not unknown to Dusk, and it was something he constantly struggled with. Memories past, of actions he would always regret, flew by his eyes, leaving him to wonder with regret.
“Could things have been different, had I done something else?” he muttered. “Dusk Prosa!… Podex perfectus es.”
Therein lies a chance to no longer be alone… but with belonging, comes danger. I may not show it, but I do care about those in that town. He shook his head. Were I to go out, who is to say that danger would not follow? Who is to say that my past won’t catch up?
He walked back over to the bookshelf, peering at Opacare Prose’s novels. These, in the past, helped me overcome my guilt… and yet new guilt followed. He placed a hoof on one of the novels. Do you forgive me for what I’ve done, old friends? Because I haven’t. I never will.
He sighed. And that is why I don’t go out. Because I am the danger. I fear. I cannot be forgiven, so I do not allow myself the chance.
Once again, Sweetie Belle’s words came to him, speaking in a whisper.
“Is that why you’re so cold? Because you lost touch with the folks that care?”
He turned, facing the desk, looking at the items that lay upon the wooden frame. His eyes glanced at the photo frame. They, who were robbed… He shifted his gaze to the scroll. They, who I kept away for their safety… He took one final look at the blue quill and black inkwell. They, whom I killed to save…
Consumed by some strange urge, he walked over to the desk and reached out, grasping the frame with his hoof. He looked down at it, deep in thought. Once again, the smiles that he saw were hollow, without substance… or life.
Alone. That is what I am.
Don’t go out. Don’t go out. Don’t go out. Don’t go out.
Stay.
… Knock, knock, knock.
What sounded like hooves beating on the downstairs door brought him out of his sorrowful thoughts. Uncertain if he had heard anything, he waited for another sign of clarification.
… Knock, knock, knock. He heard something muffled, perhaps a cry; but that was all the clarification he needed.
He moved away from the desk and made his way down the steps, eyes trained carefully on the door, still grasping the photo frame. He was unsure who had come at this hour; and he had no intention of being at all welcoming.
But he sighed; it wouldn’t do to be icy this late at night.
Biting back a cranky curse, he stepped up to the door. He placed his pewter hoof upon the gold-bronze surface, and twisted, pulling the door wide.
He blinked in surprise.
Standing outside his door was a certain unicorn filly, looking up at him with emerald eyes. Her purple and pink mane fluffed out behind her slightly, her white coat covered by what appeared to be a red cape. Plastered on the back was a blue shield with a gold-yellow, small equine figure on top.
He nearly addressed her as miss, but remembered that she preferred not to be called as such. He gazed at her for one more surprised second, before forming a frown. “… Sweetie Belle?”
The young filly smiled up at him. “Hiya, Mr. Prosa!” she greeted cheerfully.
He blinked in confusion, and for once he could not figure out what to say. Any previous thought immediately left his mind, replaced by a feeling of incredulity. “Uh…”
“What are you doing still here?” she asked, looking up at him.
He didn’t respond by voice, his mouth moving but no words coming out.
“Didn’t you get the invitations to the party?”
He blinked again, remembering the cards on his desk, before answering, “Y-yes, I did.”
“So why aren’t you at the party?”
“Why do you care?” he automatically asked in a cold tone.
Immediately after he had said this, a huge weight of regret was heaved on his shoulders. Sweetie looked away, her eyes wide and filling with tears. The feeling inside was foreign, unfamiliar, untamed; and yet as raw and rich as any emotion. It pushed past his logical thought process, and instinctively knelt down to comfort the filly.
You asshole.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to snap like that.”
She wiped her eyes, looking back at the taller stallion. She managed a small smile. “I forgive you, Mr. Prosa. You probably are just having an off day.”
His mind went back the the photo frame on his desk, then the letter; and then back to Sweetie herself. “You could say that,” he murmured.
“So why not come to the party? It oughta cheer you up!”
Ignoring the slightly mangled grammar, he sighed. “I… can’t. I’m…” He turned away, looking back up the stairs. “I’m busy.”
She caught his look up the stairs, but said nothing about it. “Busy doing what?”
“Work.”
“Does it have anything to do with that?” She pointed a hoof out, and Dusk looked to his side, finally remembering that he still held the photo in his hooves.
He looked down at the picture, the familiar lamentation reentering his heart. His eyes grew distant once more, and his face fell. He was unaware of Sweetie silently noticing the look.
He was unable to answer with words, so he resolved with a slow, steady nod. What else could he do; lie? To do so would be to desecrate their memory, tarnish their reputation. Something he could never do.
“Who are they?” Sweetie asked.
“My parents,” he answered, his voice becoming somewhat strained.
“They look pretty nice,” the filly commented brightly.
He nodded solemnly. “They were.”
Her smile morphed into a concerned frown. “Huh?”
He did not respond, turning and re-entering his home. Sweetie, after a moment’s hesitation, followed after him.
He clutched the photo in his hoof tightly, still looking down at it. Somehow, Sweetie’s distant presence made the image have a bigger impact on him. Bitterness cloaked his heart in a grey veil, clutching it in a dark vice. The tension built, and soon tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. He quickly blinked them away, hoping that Sweetie hadn’t seen them.
But she had, and she had already concluded what was wrong. “Mr. Prosa?” she asked, stepping up to him. “Are you okay?”
A strange thing occurred. Sweetie’s close proximity somehow lessened the pain, reducing the strain back to a throbbing, dull ache at the back of his mind. Now as he looked at the picture, he felt a tinge of warmth return to those smiles. It wasn’t enough to bring him out of his depressive state, however, and his frown only deepened.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Sweetie said softly. She nuzzled up to him, doing her best to comfort him.
“Always.”
“Why, though? Why don’t you just—”
“Not look?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I can’t. I simply can’t.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m afraid that if I don’t look, I’ll forget.”
He looked up, sudden realization hitting him. “Why am I telling you these things?” he murmured. “You are but a filly. Innocent.” He glanced at her. “And I am but a cold stallion.”
She nodded, before saying, “But underneath that cold pony is a warmer heart.”
“Lies.”
“Or maybe you’ve convinced yourself of that.”
He stared at her, seeing that there was a fire behind those emerald eyes. It burned of such intensity, such earnesty, that rivaled his harsh, pink gaze. Does she truly believe what she is saying? That I have warmth inside of me?
Children are sometimes wiser than we make them out to be. Perhaps they are smarter than even the wisest of stallions. For they are earnest and innocent and truthful, with none of the boundaries that the adults must bear.
Paradise is made up of these fillies, he reflected. Theirs is the glory of the end. Blessed, indeed, are the meek.
His lips slowly lifted into a tired and impressed smile—one that raised Sweetie’s spirits. “You are truly an intelligent little filly, Sweetie Belle.”
He stood, going up the stairs and placing the photo back on his desk. Sweetie patiently waited for him to return downstairs.
He returned shortly after, wearing the familiar blue vest across his torso. “This party,” he started, a bit hesitant. “Will it be… nice?”
She smiled at him. “It will be, Mr. Prosa!”
He nodded, before walking out with her. In the moonlight’s glow, she saw him smile a bit nervously. She gave him a reassuring hug, catching off guard. After a moment, though, he returned the gesture. Together, they walked down the dirt path towards the Town Hall.
Pinkie Pie waited by the door while the other ponies waited for her call. She peered out towards the path up to Canterlot, eyes straining against the stained glass. A million bolts of excitement and apprehension ran down her mane to her tail, and she couldn’t help but smile in anticipation.
The moment she saw a familiar, small white filly, with a pewter-grey pony, enter her view, her smile widened enormously. She turned, facing the others. “Here they come!” she said. They nodded and, at her command, hid in the back of the Town Hall, carefully concealed. After making sure everypony was in place, she too joined them in hiding.
The minutes grew long, and waiting soon became a chore. It seemed that the two in question were not intent on arriving quickly; something that only slightly irked Pinkie Pie. Regardless, all waited as patiently as they could, though some began fidgeting once the first ten minutes passed.
After several more painful moments, they heard voices.
“… What I just don’t understand is why there was no information on who this party is for,” they heard Dusk Prosa say. His voice grew louder, though still muffled, meaning that he was nearing the door. “Surely Miss Pie would not miss such an obvious detail?”
“Of course she wouldn’t! Pinkie’s the party mare of Ponyville!” they heard Sweetie respond, her voice slightly cracking. “St-stop laughing!” she exclaimed after they heard Dusk snicker quietly at the voice crack. “Anyway, she’s pretty much the expert on parties around here.”
“Still, though, purposely omitting the guest of honor’s name seems quite the blunder to me.”
“Holy cow!” Pinkie whispered to Twilight. “He’s actually talking a lot! And he sounds nice!” Twilight quickly shushed her.
“Why do you think she did it?” Sweetie asked. Their footsteps stopped right before the door.
“Hmm.” He paused, placing a hoof on the door, slowly pushing it open. “I suppose the only real reason for such a lack of attention would be to throw a—”
“SURPRISE PARTY!” Pinkie and everypony yelled, popping up from behind the stage. The stallion was taken by complete surprise. Confetti rained from the ceiling as banners were displayed, all saying “Welcome to Ponyville!” in bright, bold lettering. Pinkie blew a party streamer before suddenly firing off her party cannon towards Dusk.
That would have been fine, had Pinkie not somehow forgotten that she had left the streamers’ ammunition unopened—meaning that she was firing at least a dozen plastic boxes at a high velocity towards their faces.
The stallion instinctively grabbed Sweetie and ducked to the side, just barely dodging the projectiles. He glanced back, seeing the boxes fly out the door, before glaring back at the party mare. “Pinkie!” he barked sharply. “What the devil?!”
Pinkie giggled nervously. “Sorry! Guess I forgot to open a few things!”
Dusk snorted. “Best party pony in town, my flank…” he murmured to himself. He got up, helping Sweetie off the ground. The filly seemed a little shaken by the experience, but quickly recovered, smiling at the pink pony.
“Good job getting him here, Sweetie!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Maybe you have special talent in leading ponies to parties!”
Sweetie shrugged. “Actually, Mr. Prosa didn’t really need leading. He came on his own.”
“Really?” Rarity asked, looking at the stallion with slight curiosity. “That certainly is an…”
Dusk smirked knowingly. “An improvement? I suppose it could be considered one.”
He glanced around once more, taking in everything. “I suppose I should have seen this coming. In retrospect, it makes sense.” He glanced at Sweetie. “I suppose, then, that you only visited to get me?”
She blushed. “Well, that was part of it—” She protested further, but stopped when she saw the stallion’s smile return.
He turned back to the party mare, whose smile had widened enormously. “Well, Miss Pie, you certainly caught me off guard. In fact, a lot of this town has caught me off guard.” He placed a hoof on his chin in thought. “I wonder why? It’s been a long time since I had experience such genuine liveliness in any place.”
Rarity smiled. “If you stick around, you might find that there’s more where that came from.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll keep you to that.” He glanced back at Pinkie. “I’m not the most outgoing of ponies, but just this once I’ll try to enjoy myself. I believe that there is something you ponies say when the guest of honor has arrived. What was it? Oh, yes, it was—”
“LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!” Pinkie shouted, somehow summoning a blue polka-dotted party cap. She signaled to Vinyl, and got the party music playing in seconds. The other guests began dancing and partying around, the music bringing motion to their hooves.
Sweetie went off to find the other crusaders, leaving Dusk alone at the door. He looked around, seeing the smiling faces of the town; and couldn’t help but smile with them.
His eyes wandered around at the various party decor, before settling on the cake in the far back corner. He chuckled to himself. Chocolate mousse cake. Just like I prefer it. I really should have seen this coming…
Then again, there were more pressing issues at hoof…
He mentally shook his head. There would be a time of reflection later; goddess knew that he had spent far too long lamenting. Right now, he ought to focus on enjoying himself as much as possible.
Starting with, of course, that cake.
As he walked over, he noticed two familiar-looking ponies standing by the table. One was a stallion, with a blue-grey coat and a taupe mane. The other was a white mare with a light-pink mane. The mare heard him approach, and turned to greet him with a smile. Dusk instantly recognized who she was, just from her blue eyes alone.
“Dusk Prosa!” she greeted, smiling.
“Nurse Redheart,” he said, actually surprised. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”
“She’s with me, lad,” the stallion said, turning and looking at Prosa with his pine-green eyes. “Ponyville Hospital will be fine without us for a few hours.”
Prosa smiled. “A good evening to you, Doctor Irons. And to you as well, Redheart.”
“The feeling’s mutual, mate,” Irons said, his smile widening. “I must say, you certainly seem different from the stallion I had to prod days ago!”
Prosa glanced over his shoulder to where Sweetie and the other Crusaders were partying. “I suppose you could say I’ve had some help.”
Redheart nodded. “Good. Celestia knows you needed it.”
Dusk stared coolly at her, but couldn’t restrain the smile crossing his face. It had been a while since he had any sort of banter; and this conversation was quite the welcome.
They talked a little more, regarding Dusk’s current establishments, before they wandered off. Dusk watched them go, before turning back to the table. He eyed the cake with a tinge of glee, before grabbing one of the plates.
“You’re not seriously going to eat the cake now, are you?” a familiar female voice asked.
Dusk sighed, turning around. “I was considering it, Miss Sparkle,” he responded, eyeing the lavender unicorn with slight annoyance. “Can you blame me? I haven’t had mousse in many a night.”
Twilight managed a small smile. “Well, don’t let me stop you, ‘Mister’ Prosa.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Satire? You’ve changed.”
“The same could be said about you.”
He set his plate down. “Indeed it could. Though, now it really is can, isn’t it?” He grinned to himself. “Only a short while ago, I would not have found myself at a lively party.”
Twilight nodded. “You certainly seemed like the kind of pony who liked to remain secluded. May I ask why you came?”
He frowned, though not in contempt. “I suppose I grew tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“Things,” he answered vaguely, still unwilling to divulge too much information.
Twilight didn’t try to pry further, accepting the fact that Prosa still had some restrictions. “To be honest, not many of us thought you’d actually come. It was only Pinkie and Sweetie who showed any hope of you coming.”
He nodded. “As I’ve said before, partying is not my preferred form of enjoyment. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have means of joy.”
She looked away. “I wasn’t sure if you even felt joy…”
“Why is that?” he asked. He was actually surprised; that was something he had not expected Twilight to say.
“Well… if your behavior at the library was any sign of anything…”
At once regret entered Dusk’s mind, and he averted his gaze. His mane fell in front of his face, masking his features.
Twilight blinked. “Oh, gosh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring that up.” She scraped her hoof on the floor. “Ugh, this was supposed to be a nice time… bringing up bad memories isn’t going to help—”
“No.” Dusk held up a hoof. “It’s… it’s fine.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’ve… been thinking about that event. And… I realize that I haven’t resolved that issue.”
She said nothing, letting him continue, a curious look on her face.
He turned to her, sadness in his eyes. “My behavior, no matter how justified I made it out to be, is inexcusable in retrospect. It was rude, and mean, and completely atrocious and unnecessary.” He looked away. “Calling you a thief, and in front of that young drake… that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”
A silence fell between them, and Dusk expected Twilight to simply walk away. It was to be expected; and he mentally braced himself to the inevitable absence.
Suddenly, he felt a pair of hooves wrap around him, hugging him slightly. His eyes widened, astounded, and he glanced at the mare to his now very close side. “M-miss Twilight?”
It was a warm hug, one that someone would give as a sort of peace-offering. She didn’t say anything at first, simply giving him a smidge of affection. Eventually, she released her hold on him, giving him a slight smile.
“It’s nice that you apologized, Dusk,” she said. “But I should apologize, too. After all,” she added, blushing somewhat in embarrassment, “I did kinda steal that from you.” She didn’t need to clarify what she meant, the meaning coming across easily.
He nodded, thankful that she didn’t seem intent on pursuing that topic at the moment. “What now?” he asked after a moment of silence.
She smiled. “I’ll talk to you later. Right now, why don’t you enjoy yourself? The cake is practically calling your name.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I can practically hear it calling, ‘Convivium in me!’”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You speak Latineigh?”
He smirked. “More than meets the eye, remember?”
She giggled at his humor, before leaving him at the table. He smiled to himself as he watched her go, happy that he had resolved that issue. Turning around, he licked his lips, once again picking up a plate.
Because he was feeling especially good tonight, Dusk helped himself not to one, but to two, pieces of the chocolate mousse cake. After eagerly gulping down the second slice, he let out a contented sigh, tossing the plate into the nearby trash can. He had to give props to the Cake family; when they made dessert, they certainly knew what they were doing.
Scanning the room, he saw that the ponies were most definitely enjoying themselves. Nurse Redheart and Doctor Irons were towards the back, talking with a brown earth pony who wore a green tie, and had an hourglass as a Cutie Mark. Next to him was a grey pegasus mare with a wheat-yellow mane, her eyes slightly disjointed. Her Cutie Mark was represented by a set of bubbles; he couldn’t discern what possible purpose they held.
Though who I am to judge? he reminded himself quietly. A certain pony’s mark brought happiness but also pain to those close to him.
His eyes drifted over to the side of the room, where Pinkie and the Crusaders were. The pink pony was entertaining the young fillies with a set of games. They had looks of absolute joy on their faces, and Dusk felt his own lips rise at seeing them. Sweetie saw him looking, and gave him a friendly wave; he returned it, briefly, before looking away.
Such a quaint town. So lively, filled with actual life. So unlike the false streets of Manehattan.
He blinked. Had he seriously thought that? Perhaps this town was not only affecting him on an emotional level, but also on a subconscious level. He wondered if that was a bad thing. Having spent so much time being guarded, actively opening himself to others now seemed so… foreign. Unfamiliar. He was unsure whether to feel relieved that he felt this way; or scared that he would slip.
As with any operation, the chance of risk increases as time goes on…
“Um… Mr. Prosa?”
The voice was extremely quiet, but though the party sounds nearly drowned it out, Prosa nonetheless managed to hear that meek sound. Ears twitching, he dropped out of his thoughts and turned, facing the source of the voice.
He was met by a butterscotch-yellow pegasus with a pink mane and sapphire eyes. She looked at him shyly, but had a small smile on her face. He fixed her with an quiet, intense, questioning gaze, making her look away in embarrassment. “Yes?” he asked, his gaze softening after a moment. “Miss…”
“Fluttershy, although you don’t have to call me Miss.” She blushed. “Um, that is, if you wouldn’t mind…”
“Fluttershy? Ah, yes, the animal caretaker of Ponyville.” He held out a hoof to shake, and she kindly took it, offering her a small grin.
They turned their gazes back to the room, specifically the center, where an orange earth pony and a cyan pegasus were hoof-wrestling—apparently due to a dispute over the cider. A semi-large crowd had gathered around, cheering them on.
“Who are they?” Prosa asked Fluttershy.
She pointed to the earth pony first: “She’s Applejack.” She moved her hoof onto the cyan pegasus. “And she’s Rainbow Dash.”
“Friends of yours?”
“Uh huh,” she said cheerfully.
He raised an eyebrow. “So why don’t you hang out with them? Instead of… you know… being over here with me?”
She shook her head. “It’s fine to watch. I don’t like getting too much attention.”
He nodded knowingly. “Ah, cognatae spiritus.”
She gave him a confused look. He explained. “It’s Latineigh for a kindred spirit.” He smiled. “I prefer the background to the foreground as well.”
She giggled lightly. “I guess that also explains why you chose that house at the edge of Ponyville.”
He sighed. “It actually explains a lot…” he said to himself.
Fluttershy gave him a confused look, but chose not to pursue the matter. “Anyway… how are you enjoying the party so far?”
“It’s… interesting, to say the least.” He smiled ruefully. “It’s been a long time since I ever went to any sort of party.”
“Why is that?”
With a shrug, he responded, “Life.”
She nodded. “It does get a little hectic every now and then. But,” she added, “that’s why it’s always a good thing to take a moment to relax.”
He gazed at her thoughtfully. “And if there is no time to relax?”
“There always is. Sometimes you just need somepony else to show you it.” She gave him a small smile, and then—much to his surprise—gave him a quick hug.
As she stepped out of the hug, he saw that there was a faint blush to her cheeks. He smirked. “I see you like me already.”
She eeped, but giggled softly. A few more words were exchanged, and then she said her goodbyes, leaving to talk to another partygoer.
Curiouser and curiouser. If I wasn’t so sure, I’d say the ponies are beginning to warm up to me.
The party slowly began to dwindle as the night went on, with several ponies leaving. Lyra and Bon Bon were first, followed by Cranky and Matilda. While the former ponies left with loud voices, the latter were more subdued. Several saw that Cranky, despite his usual grouchiness, had a small smile on his face as he left with his love.
A few other ponies had come up to Prosa during the party. Most said very few words, tired out from all the partying; he was thankful that he didn’t need to talk. He had noticed, however, that Rarity and Applejack were missing. Upon questioning several ponies, he learned that they had left the party sometime before, “on lookout duty.”
He wondered what that meant.
He glanced at Applejack’s family, consisting of Big Mac and Granny Smith; Apple Bloom was still hanging around with the Crusaders. They regarded him with silent stares, but he didn’t detect anything unkind in them.
Granny Smith approached the stallion as he finished talking with another pony. She fixed him with a stern glare, one that he cooly returned, unwilling to back down. He could feel Big Mac’s eyes stare at him questionly, undoubtedly still feeling uneasy about letting the pewter stallion anywhere close to his family.
“You oughta know that mah family has been a part of this town since its beginning,” she stated.
“Indeed.”
“And we care an awful lot about it.”
“Of course.”
“So… Ah don’t want t’ hear you making any trouble, ya hear?”
He nearly chuckled out loud. Her voice, though strained from age, had not weakened the slightest. It commanded him with authority, and he immediately knew that it would be safer if he heeded her words.
Still, though, he had one more thing to say before he could agree.
“And if trouble comes after me?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Then you’ll deal with it mightily.”
At that, he smiled. “Wise words, Miss Smith. I’ll try and refrain from becoming a bother.”
She nodded, returning the smile.
Big Mac, and Granny Smith soon left after. Apple Bloom followed them, but not before giving Prosa a quick goodbye.
The numbers eventually grew sparse, leaving only maybe ten other ponies, not counting Dusk, left in the Town Hall. Among the numbers was a certain rainbow-maned pegasus, who had been giving Dusk the cold shoulder since the beginning of the party. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why; she still had her qualms about letting Dusk anywhere near the town. Scootaloo had shadowed her, but once she had seen the pegasus fix her magenta gaze onto Dusk, she instinctively backed off, knowing that something was about to go down.
She flew towards him, stopping just in front and touching down, all the while glaring at him. He returned a steady gaze, his mouth and features neutral. Her face, meanwhile, had her brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth dipping downward. An air of vehemence surrounded her, and perhaps a weaker pony might have cringed under the weight.
But Dusk refused to show any weakness. He had dealt with similar ponies in the past; those who were arrogant and full of themselves. He had handled those like he had handled his own case of arrogance; by putting them in their place, before they could launch a preemptive strike.
The only problem was, Rainbow Dash was not like the ponies of his past.
Before he could get a word in, she placed a hoof against his vest angrily. “Well?” she asked, glaring at him.
Inwardly, he was taken by surprise by her forwardness. Still, he maintained a cool attitude, responding, “Well what?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Is what true—”
“Don’t play dumb with me!” She pushed him, making him slide up to the table where the cakes were. “You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
The action raised up a painful memory. He visibly winced, as if in pain, eyes blinking rapidly as if he was trying to clear his vision.
Scootaloo noticed Dusk’s sudden discomfort, and quickly tapped Rainbow’s shoulder. “Rainbow! Take it easy!”
The cyan pegasus glanced back at the filly, and took a slow breath. She retracted her hoof, allowing Dusk to regain his composure.
I still regret having to nearly push that stallion off that balcony, he thought, frowning as the image of him holding a pony by his mere hind hoof raced across his mind.
“I’m not going to play any games,” Rainbow said, still glaring at Prosa. “Those syringes. What are they for?”
Dusk saw Scootaloo grow a concerned look at the mention of the syringes. He quickly glanced back at Rainbow, carefully choosing his words.
“The reasons are my reasons alone, Miss Dash.”
She scraped her hoof on the floor. “That’s not a good enough answer!”
“But it’s the only answer you’re going to get.”
She snorted angrily. “Why all the secrecy, though, if they’re just syringes? You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”
“We all have our secrets.”
“None of us have suspicious secrets!”
“All secrets are suspicious by nature. It’s only natural; they, as living enigmas, should be regarded with slight unease.” He leveled his gaze at her. “Knowledge is power; and power can corrupt.”
She growled. “That still doesn’t explain why you had to be all hostile to Twilight about them!”
He returned a glare of his own. “Did you perhaps consider that this is the reason why I chose to try and keep those syringes a secret?”
She reeled back in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Your reaction is the answer to my secrecy, Miss Dash. You are immediately appalled by what I have, and set about confronting me about something you don’t understand.” His glare grew more powerful, shutting her up and preventing a retort. “Ponies fear what they don’t know; but even more so when they see, and still don’t understand. To be ignorant is to be dead; to conclude without evidence is to be rendered obsolete.”
He took a step forward, and the intense gaze was enough to force Rainbow back.
“You, Rainbow Dash,” he continued, “would rather confront me over something you don’t and don’t want to understand, than try and understand where I am coming from. Are you so self-centered that you think that what you think is always right?”
“Are you?!” she retorted. She immediately regretted it, as Dusk’s restraint broke. His lips curled, and he bared his teeth. His head lowered, his pupils shrinking to miniscule levels.
Truly, he was a frightening pony once you got him mad.
And yet, just as quickly as his anger rose, so did it fade. Rainbow didn’t know, but Scootaloo had been behind her, staring at Dusk.
The fear in her face was enough to make the stallion pause, and his anger retreated in response.
He took a calming breath, closing his eyes as he inhaled. Exhaling, he opened them, his gaze much more calm. “Every day,” he barely whispered.
His mouth closed, and his gaze fell, and he became unmoving.
Rainbow blinked, before snarling, “Hey! That doesn’t answer what those syringes are for!”
He said nothing.
“You’re a user, aren’t you?!”
Still he remained as silent as the night that encompassed the world.
“Hey! Stop ignoring me!”
“Dusk isn’t ignoring you, Rainbow, silly!” Pinkie suddenly exclaimed. Her unexpected appearance made the trio jump back in slight surprise. The pink mare barely gave Dusk a glance, but retained a cheerful smile. “He’s just said his peace, and feels that nothing more needs to be said!”
Dusk mentally raised an eyebrow, wondering how Pinkie had so accurately reached that conclusion.
“Besides, I think you’ve done enough questioning!” Pinkie continued, frowning at Dash. “And as much as I want to know what those syringes are for, I won’t have the guest of honor be harassed. Okay?”
Dash glanced between Dusk and Pinkie, seeing that the two had pretty much told her to move on. She let out a disgruntled snort, but nonetheless conceded. “Fine!” She took off, flying out, but before she had completely left she yelled, “Dusk, you had better not do something stupid!”
He merely nodded, and the sound of wind breaking followed shortly after.
“She wasn’t bothering you too bad, was she, Dusk?” Pinkie asked.
Not anymore than expected. He shook his head no. Pinkie smiled reassuringly, before giving him a quick hug.
“Don’t worry about her! She just hasn’t gotten to really know you yet!”
Pinkie didn’t notice, but Dusk suddenly stiffened, struck by sudden fear. He quickly shrugged her off, doing his best to not cast suspicion. Pinkie, oblivious as always, gave him a final smile, before moving off to help clean the Hall.
That left Prosa with Scootaloo. The young pegasus was staring off towards where Rainbow had flown off. Her eyes were large, and Dusk could tell that a storm of emotions was forming behind her violet eyes. A sea of sadness and confusion swirled within, her look growing distant. Dusk wondered if he should comfort her; but even if he did, what could he say? That Rainbow really didn’t mean what she said? That she was drunk?
He knew that those would be lies. Rainbow meant everything she had said; and Dusk knew that he would have to tread lightly around her.
He approached Scootaloo cautiously, though unsure of what to say initially. The filly turned to face him, her bottom lip quivering in shock.
Just as he was about to speak, she interrupted: “I’msorryforRainbowDuskpleasedon’tbemad!”
The fast string of words caught him off-guard, and he paused.
“Anywayhopeyouenjoyedthepartytakecare!”
She scampered off, leaving behind a bit of smoke in her wake. Dusk blinked, before letting out a brief sigh, unsure what to make of it.
“I… guess that’s fine,” he murmured. She talked just as fast as Rainbow flew…
It shouldn’t have bothered him; Rainbow’s reaction was, after all, a guarantee. Yet, with all that had happened tonight, Dusk couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed in the pegasus.
He shook his head, determined not to feel depressed again. He began helping clean up the Hall, tossing bits of confetti and party streamers into the nearby trash bins. He scraped the tables clean, clearing any crumbs, and swept the floors dry. Thanks to the combined efforts of both Dusk and everypony else, the Hall was completely furbished once again.
He let out a satisfied sigh as he tossed a final piece of confetti into the trash. The work had, thankfully, put his mind at somewhat of a rest, and Rainbow’s harsh words became little more than a distant memory.
He heard a set of hooves approaching, and he turned, seeing Twilight Sparkle walk up to him. Next to her was Spike who, despite the night of partying, still looked quite awake. The unicorn had a nervous look on her face, and Dusk frowned. Anticipating potential danger, he asked, “Is something wrong, Miss Twilight?”
She scuffed a hoof on the floor. “Not exactly. It’s more like… I have a question.”
“Oh?”
She took a slow breath to calm herself. “I assume you’ve heard about Opacare Prose’s disappearance?”
He nearly flinched at the name, but remained outwardly stoic. “I have. I’ve been hearing it on the news for a few days now.”
“And I assume you know that many of the cities and towns of Equestria are looking for him?”
“I do.” His frown deepened, and he suddenly felt a jolt of worry race down his spine. Had he messed up? Had he grown careless?
“And, well…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, seemingly at a loss for words.
Spike slapped a hand to his face. “For goodness sake, Twilight! It’s not that hard of a question to ask!”
“Well, excuse me, Spike, but I think it is!” she responded, a bit testily.
Prosa raised his hoof, gaining their attention. “I think it would be beneficial for us all if you were to actually ask me the question, Miss Sparkle.”
She sighed. “Of course. Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Okay, well, as I’ve said, Equestria’s been on the lookout for Opacare Prose for a few weeks now. We in Ponyville have been busy doing our part to help.”
“By setting up watchers, I imagine?”
“More than that. We have a system of watching implemented. We’ve got pegasi looking out from above, and Fluttershy is asking for the assistance of the woodland critters. Applejack and her family have made contact with the members in Appleloosa, so they’re also assisting us.”
“But?”
She sighed in frustration. “I can’t explain it, but it seems like all our efforts are for nothing. We haven’t found a shred of Prose anywhere!”
“I see…” He gave her a questioning look. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“Well… I was thinking that maybe we need someone with expertise.”
He and Spike both raised an eyebrow.
“Let me explain. Prosa—and please, don’t bother trying to deny it—we know you’re from Manehattan. I was thinking that, if Opacare left from there, then maybe it would take a Manehattanite to fish him out.”
Neither of their eyebrows lowered, but Dusk gained a somewhat troubled look.
“I know it’s a long shot, but at this point, I’m willing to use whatever chance we can get.” She stared straight into Prosa’s eyes. “Dusk, can I ask you to join our watchers?”
He didn’t respond, the eyebrow finally lowering. He stared straight ahead, as if deep in thought. Yet his eyes betrayed nothing of the inner workings of his mind, carefully glazed so as to prevent outsiders from looking in. The troubled expression grew, and he scrunched up his muzzle as if in disgust.
Then, for the briefest of moments, the unicorn and the dragon thought they saw genuine fear in Prosa’s eyes.
And then, just as suddenly, it was gone, replaced with a thoughtful guardedness. He didn’t say anything at first, his head lowering, eyes pointed at the floor.
“… I’ll think about it,” he finally said, still not meeting their gaze.
Twilight and Spike shared a look, but Twilight simply shrugged, deciding that that was enough of an answer. She said her farewells to Dusk, before leaving for the Golden Oak Library.
Dusk took a moment to regain himself. He tried slowing his breathing, getting his heart rate down to resting beats. He wiped away a traitorous bead of sweat, closing his eyes and counting to ten. Don’t panic.
After a few seconds, he let out a wary breath. He had calmed just enough to not break down. Okay, he tried to reassure himself. I can still make this work. The situation is still under control.
In a frenzy he returned back to cleaning, going over seemingly every inch of the Hall, just to get his mind off of Twilight’s request. For some time, he managed to do just that; the dust balls that had appeared were enough of a distraction anyway.
Once he had finished cleaning (again), he returned back to the table, still thoughtful. Twilight’s request returned to mind, though this time it wasn’t as troublesome as before. I think… I think I can still do this. So long as I don’t reveal anything, I should be able to blend in fine.
He took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He put on a mask of indifference, determined to not let Ponyville see his inner anxiety.
“Hey, Mr. Prosa…” a tired voice called to his left.
He turned and smiled, seeing an exhausted Sweetie Belle standing by his side. She looked up at him with bleary eyes. There were some streamers in her hair, but she didn’t seem to mind them. “Sweetie Belle,” he greeted. “I assume that you had fun?”
She nodded. “Oh, it was a blast. Did you?”
He chuckled. “To my chagrin, I did indeed.”
She frowned. “Having fun isn’t something to be embarrassed about, Dusk.”
He only chuckled again, making Sweetie’s face contort in confusion. “I’m more surprised you knew the meaning of the word!”
“Chagrin isn’t a hard word, Dusk!” Sweetie protested.
“When I was your age, not a single adult could tell me the meaning of chagrin,” he responded. He playfully ruffled her hair, making her yelp in surprise. He glanced around, seeing that there were still a few ponies left over whom had decided on staying to help Pinkie reorganize her party accessories. He nodded to himself, seeing that his presence was no longer necessary.
“Hey, Mr. Prosa. Quick question.”
He mentally sighed. Please don’t be something awkward. “Yes, Sweetie?”
“Would you like to join the Crusaders?”
He paused. “That’s… your little club, right?”
“It’s more than a little club!” She pouted. “It’s an endless quest for our Cutie Marks!”
“I’m sure. But why me?”
“Well… you don’t exactly have a Mark, right?”
“How observant.” His dry tone went over her head.
“So, why don’t you… you know… join us? I’m sure you’d have fun!”
He levelled his gaze at her. “Sweetie, I’d be busy so much that I’d have no time to actually go ‘Crusading’ with you.”
“I know that! I was just thinking that you could be an honorary member or something!”
Dusk once again paused, seeing the earnestness in Sweetie’s eyes. Her eyes were wide and pleading, despite her tired status. After a moment of contemplation, he gave a small smile.
“Just let your sister know to make me a cape, okay?”
The tired joy on her face made his heart soar for some reason. Somehow, despite everything, Sweetie still could brighten his mood. He offered a friendly, warm hoof to the white filly.
“Come on; I’ll walk you home.”
